


Loyalty - A Fine Line Between Being a Chauvinist or a Traitor [2020 REWRITE // NEW VER.]

by Gavala



Series: Loyalty - Drarry AU [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drarry, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Gryffindor Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn, house change, more movie accurate than book accurate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 49,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22010314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavala/pseuds/Gavala
Summary: The Book of Unusual Clauses and Cases at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Page 139, Clause 5, Section 6.“Should a student be found in a state of inability... due to his/her current status and disposition... under the clause 5.6. [one may] establish a change in a student’s educational environment for the betterment of the student and his/her peers. This includes, but is not limited to... the rehousing of the student into their second-most befitting house.”--Draco Malfoy was less than enthusiastic about his 5th year at Hogwarts, given the drama which occurred at the end of his 4th year- and the rumours of a certain Dark Wizard returning. Nevertheless, it was just another year, right?Until it wasn't.Under Clause 5.6, Draco Malfoy is rehoused just two weeks before the new term, and what started as a confusing nondescript letter becomes his worst waking nightmare. He's put into Gryffindor. Now, he must navigate through his remaining years with a certain annoyingPotteron his case,  sending him into a whirlwind of problems as he "accidentally" co-founds Dumbledores Army, and finds himself slipping further into traitorism. His loyalties are tested.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Series: Loyalty - Drarry AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584979
Comments: 50
Kudos: 238





	1. Two Weeks Notice

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Loyalty - a fine line between being a chauvinist or a traitor [OLD VERSION]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17164583) by [Gavala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavala/pseuds/Gavala). 



> This is a rewrite of my original, https://archiveofourown.org/works/17164583/chapters/40358270
> 
> Mostly just fixing actual writing and grammatical errors, although some new scenes, and interactions have been added. Some things have been changed as well, such as some relationships, interactions, and bits and pieces.

Draco woke up on the fine, summer’s morning with a good feeling in his chest, the type you get when you know it’s going to be a good day. He’d had a good summer, two weeks left before the term would start, and he’d return to Hogwarts for another year. This specific day, he felt, was going to be a fantastic one.

He’d spent a lot of the summer spending time with his friends, visiting family and engaging in high-class soirees with his Mother and Father- the usual sort of thing to expect from a pure family. Now he had a couple of weeks left- which he intended to spend packing, stocking on supplies, and finally prepping for the new school year.

He was excited to be a fifth year, he supposed. It wasn’t anything too grand, but another year closer to being out of school, and one closer to finally pursuing something noble and productive, just like his family preceding him. He’d already gotten a head start on packing, his usual robes and slacks and shoes and socks- along with a couple of pieces for his visits to Hogsmeade, and the occasional book or two.

After a good while of pacing around his room that morning, searching his shelves and wardrobe for everything he needed off his list from the school, he decided to take a hardy break and settle off for a moment. He bound down the stairs to the kitchen, poking his nose into the pantry amongst the different herbs and spices, grabbing a few Provisionals before sitting down, taking a good long sigh. It was going to be a good day.

Until it wasn’t.

His mother came into the breakfast room as he pulled apart at his toast, and he looked up with a smile. “Good morning, mother.” He started softly.

“Good morning, Draco.” She replied sweetly, walking through the kitchen, filing through the mail. “The owls came this morning, there’s one for you.” She hummed, handing the letter over. “I can’t imagine what else the school might’ve needed to send, but I’m sure it’s important, nonetheless.”

He stared down at the letter for a second, eyes tracing the wax seal. “It is rather odd, I should’ve already had everything…” He mused on his words as he opened the letter slowly, pulling out the crisply folded letter.

His mother sat down across from him, reading the other letters from the pile as he scanned the words, face falling. She searched his face, pursing her lips. “Draco, honey. What is it?” Her voice was soft and full of concern.

“They’re… summoning me to the castle early this term… in order to have a meeting with the headmaster.” He said slowly as he read the contents of the parchment. “There aren’t many details, mostly just logistical stuff- I have to leave… tomorrow- that’s short notice.” He commented slightly annoyed. “I have to bring my trunk and luggage with me, and I’ll be staying until the term begins, and… well, that’s pretty much it.”

His mother tilted her head slightly, a small frown at the corner of her lips. “How unusual.” She commented with a slightly flat tone. “But… if it’s what must be done for your schooling, then I suppose you should finish packing today, love.” She stands up, brushing herself off. “I’ll be heading off to visit some family friends later this week anyway, so perhaps it was well-timed.” She hummed again. “I can go down to Diagon Alley if you need anything from the list. I know we already have your books, but did you need a new cauldron this year?”

Draco nodded. “Silver, 30 centimetres.” He smiled, though it was weak, he was troubled by the letter and the problematic and sudden plans. “And I need 3 flasks, gold-capped.” He added,

She nodded. “Of course, lovely.” She jot down short notes with her enchanted pen and smiled. “Anything else?” She then asked.

“Oh, well… some broom polish would be nice, and I needed the third volume of the advanced charms studies from that one French author you mentioned?” She nodded when his voice turned to question. “-and if it isn’t too much trouble, I wouldn’t mind a fresh blank journal for my personal studies.”

She kindly took the list and gave him a kiss on the forehead, turning on her heel towards the fireplace. Draco read the letter over again, and again, and his anxieties began to get the best of him. He was nervous, what could the early term meeting mean? Why was it so last minute? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he’d find out until he got there, so he swallowed his concerns down and resumed his packing, this time with urgency. He had to leave tomorrow, early too- given the meeting was at midday, and he needed to travel up from the village to the castle.

His mother returned with the items he requested, and he thanked her softly, packing his uniforms and his clothes into the trunk, making room for the cauldron and flasks. He threw his green and silver scarf into the pile, a couple of pairs of shoes- uniform and dress- and piled in his textbooks and journals, personal study books and a few pieces of literature for his off time. He made sure to pack in a couple of sheets and blankets- since the beds in Slytherin were stupidly cold, and a little firm, and ended up packing a few bags of snacks. He wasn’t usually one for packing food- it was a very first-year Gryffindor thing to do- but he was going to be stuck at the castle for 2 weeks without much word- so the comfort of a few things from home wouldn’t exactly be _terrible_ per se.

After a couple of hours of packing, his trunk was set- and he smoothed out his shirt, sighing. He just needed to pack away his essentials- his journal, quills and inks, a few pictures he always brought along. The usual you’d find in a satchel. He tosses the bag on top of his trunk, rolling the box out into the hallway with a long sigh. He pulled it down the stairs, parking it next to the fireplace.

He turned in for the night after dinner with his mother, his father away on business with the ministry, and went to bed early. He was one to sleep in anyways- a habit he thought he’d have a couple of weeks to break- so the extra hours would be useful for the coming day. Despite turning in early for the night, however, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to all the worries and concerns he possibly had over just what this meeting could entail- just what the headmaster wanted. He supposed it could be some menial concern- but if it was, then why call him in early? Why go through all the trouble that the school was insisting on? What could they possibly have waiting for him?

His anxieties rode him throughout the night, and he couldn’t help but mull on them, letting his fears get the best of him. Another bad habit of his, letting the little voice in his head win when he was alone. Eventually, he found himself drifting into a restless sleep, then before he knew it, it was time to wake up- eat breakfast, then depart for the Hogsmeade Floo Deposit- then take a carriage up to the castle.

His breakfast was a short one after he slipped on a white button-up dress shirt and a pair of slacks he was partial to. He slipped on his favourite shoes and a nice, light blazer, then said his goodbyes to his mother.

He wished his father was there, in the know, but given all of the problems that the ministry faced because of the _Cedric Diggory_ debacle last year- and all the _Dark Lord_ bullshit circulating, it’s not like his dad was anything but gone with the rest of the unspeakables, trying to patch up what best they can of all the problems they faced from Dumbledore and Potter. He knew his father was working hard, against the plot that many believed to be true- and against the whole idea that the third wizarding war was about to start. He didn’t believe in any of that nonsense, not fully- maybe a little more than his father did, but he kept those opinions to himself.

“Take care, you hear me?” His mother said softly, cupping his cheek. “-and be sure to write and keep me and your father updated. I promise he’ll be back soon- and we’ll send plenty of news and updates back.” Her smile was sweet, reassuring Draco as he nodded along with her words.

“Of course, I’ll write at least once a week.” He chuckled softly. “Now that I’ve got Minuit, it won’t be hard to stay in good contact.” He glanced over to the cage on top of his trunk, a black owl ruffling his feathers at the sound of his name. “I’ll write as soon as I can.”

She nods again, smiling. “Good. Take care of yourself, son. I know you’re going to be great this year, even if the… events… last year make the school a little more edged.”

His expression fell a little at the mention of the events from the previous year, but he nods. “Of course, I will.” He hums. “I will be, I promise- and thank you mother, I’ll be good.”

She gently kisses the top of his head and says her final goodbyes, sweetly patting his shoulder before helping his luggage into the fireplace. He smiles and takes a deep breath before scooping a good handful of powder into his palm. After a few seconds to recollect his thoughts, he rears his hand back, tossing the dust onto the bricks of the place. “Hogsmeade!” He calls out, letting the warm green fire surround his body and his luggage.

From there, the trip to the castle was a little more straightforward, albeit stressful, as his anxieties came back to bite his ass. He dragged the trunk next to him, going down the quiet streets with small nods towards people he could barely recognise from his previous years of visiting the village. Approaching the beaten path which led to the castle, an extremely disgruntled Mr Filch was waiting for him, scowling at the sight of him approaching. He loaded his baggage into the cart and gestured for him to board, patting the Thestral in order to get it on the right path to the school.

“Leave the trunk in the coach.” He said with a gruff voice. “The Thestral’ll take you right up to the gates, and I’ll handle the rest o’ it. Go right to the Headmaster’s office.”

Draco bit the inside of his mouth with a short nod, clamouring onto the back of the thestral cart. Filch, as much as he hated to admit it, scared him. He didn’t really want to stick around any longer than need be. If he was honest- he just wanted to figure out what exactly this whole early business was for- why he was two weeks early- what exactly the headmaster wanted.

\--

At the arrival at the castle, he did as he was instructed and left the cart at the entrance to the school. Unnerved by the odd emptiness he felt in the nearly empty front courtyard- Draco made it his mission to quickly get to Dumbledore’s office. Every now and again he’d run into a professor, who simply acknowledged his existence and continued down the hall, and occasionally he’d catch glimpses of students. He assumed these were summer students or special cases, but he wasn’t entirely sure, he’d never been this early before.

Letting his hands trace the edges of the stone as he climbed up the towers of the west wing, where he eventually arrived at the entrance of the Headmaster’s office, he met with the face of a gargoyle. He was only a few minutes early if his watch was correctly set- but there were no teachers or headmaster in sight, and he most definitely hadn’t even the closest idea as to what the password was.

After a few moments of loitering, finding a seat on the windowsill across from the archway to the Headmaster’s office so he could blankly stare out onto the ground- the sound of approaching footsteps dragged his already frayed attention away from the window. It was Professor McGonagall.

“Professor.” He stated flatly, still a little distant- with a hint of anxiety in his voice. “Am I to assume you might assist me with whatever this meeting with the Headmaster is?” She slowed her pace as she reached the nook where he was sitting, eyes staring down at the Slytherin.

“I will.” She started, voice as strong as he remembered it. “I wrote the letter you received yesterday, about the meeting.” She faced the gargoyle and the uttered the password in a hushed voice, gesturing for Draco to follow him up to the main room of the office.

“Do you mind telling me then, why I’ve been summoned?” He crossed his arms as they ascended the stairs. “My family is an extremely busy one, I’m sure you know. Two weeks early is a lot to ask.” 

“If you would just follow me, all will be explained very shortly, Malfoy. I understand that we requested quite a chunk of time from your personal schedule-” She began walking up the stairs with no further explanation, so Draco held himself from any further remarks, as he did hold some amount of respect for her.

As he climbed the stairs, they made their way into the circular office, books and oddities piled high amongst other things drawing his attention up and down the large room. He didn’t visit the Headmaster often, so he found himself trying to soak in and imbibe the room. The candles shook as he entered, a phoenix perched atop one of the masses of clutter eyed him, turning his head slowly to size him up. The paintings all seemed to grow slightly agitated as he followed behind McGonagall. He felt a little dizzy, trying to take in everything at once.

McGonagall led him to the middle of the large circular office, and he stopped just at the stairs which led to the desk which was surrounded by piling books and floating oddities. As he arrived at the middle, standing behind a stool which had placed at the foot of the stairs, McGonagall filed off to the side, where two other professors were waiting- he was unnerved. Why were the heads of houses here? Where was Professor Snape? His eyes scanned the room quickly, finding the old Headmaster scanning the shelves on the lofty second floor.

"To what do I owe this meeting?" He finally demanded, nearly shouting before composing his voice. He shifted his weight, crossing his arms. “I’m summoned to the castle two weeks early, and I’ve not a single idea why I’m here- or what you need from me.”

Dumbledore only continued to let his hands gently graze the spines of the books on the shelves, hovering before finding a large tome which he gently pulled out. "Your actions these preceding 4 years have come to our attention, Mr. Malfoy, and after some deliberation over… quite a few factors... we’ve decided to finally act upon the troubles.” Dumbledore dictated quite loudly in the almost silent room, though not with any discernible tone- just calm, collected. “It was suggested by one of our own Heads of Houses for a vote, of sorts.”

“A Vote?” Draco cautioned, reeling back a little onto his heels. “A vote for what? To expel me?” His voice fell to a defensive tone quickly.

“No, Malfoy. You aren’t being expelled.” He let out a small, short-lived laugh before descending the stairwell to the first floor, offering him a reassuring smile. He approached his lectern, placing the thick, worn tome onto the pedestal. “When the four great founders established this school, they produced a book of ‘special cases,’ for lack of a better way to explain it.” He opened the dusty book. “Many of the clauses written are for impossibly specific cases, such as transfers from other schools, late bloomers, squibs and other rarities.”

Draco had to hold himself from rolling his eyes, still confused. “What does this have to do with me? I’m none of those things.”

Dumbledore finally flipped to a bookmarked page and scanned it. “The heads of houses also anticipated future students who might be in need of a change- a rehabilitation of sorts.” He hummed.

_‘Rehabilitation? Change? What the hell is he talking about?’_ Draco’s anxieties and fears grew inside him with every word that came out of the headmaster’s mouth. He wasn’t exactly sure what was next- detention?

“I understand your confusion and fret- Malfoy- but I would request that you please remain calm.” He let his fingers graze the lines of the text, beginning to read aloud. “Should a student be found in a state of inability or an otherwise terminable position due to his or her current status and disposition, the current instated heads of houses may proceed with a majority vote under the clause 5.6. to establish a change in a student’s educational environment for the betterment of the student and his or her peers.”

“I don’t quite understand.” Draco was in a state of grimace and fear. “You keep mentioning rehabilitation… and change- establishment and… disposition.” He found himself slowly backing up as if him backing away would change anything. “What exactly are you insinuating, what is the clause 5.6?”

The entire room fell into a painful silence, Draco felt he could cut it with a knife. "Clause 5.6… Yes, I’m getting to that, Malfoy.” His voice got a little more unnerved as he continues, clearing his throat. Draco felt his concern and anxieties rise again. ‘ _What the hell was going on?’_

"If you could sit down here, on the stool." McGonagall encouraged with a small voice. "The proposed rehabilitation that we voted on, Clause 5.6, requires a change in the students’ physical and social environment. It’s meant as an attempt to help provide better or healthier resources to the student, you in this case, for your educational career.”

"What on earth do you mean by that? Physical and social environment?" His voice raised again slightly. He felt like a cornered child. He sat down nervously, and his eyes continued to dart around the room, trying to discern what they were about to do to him.

Dumbledore began to speak again, motioning with his hands as Professor Sprout appeared, holding a familiar hat which grumbled to itself with loud disdain, shifting a little as he complained under his breath. "We believe that the best way that we can begin to provide you with better resources is through clause 5.6, a rehousing of a student into their second most fitting house. It’s a clause we seldom use, perhaps once a decade, at most.” He gestured to the hat as it neared the centre of the room.

"Are you mad?!" He exclaimed quickly, voice rising until he was nearly yelling. "You can't rehouse students! Tha-That can't be done!" He shook his fears he didn’t even know possible as the hat approached, but he somehow managed to stay seated, where else would he go?

"On the contrary," Professor Sprout, the Hufflepuff Head, piped up. "what Dumbledore read to you was the rule that the founders put in place specifically for situations like this. This is completely within our jurisdiction as teachers."

He attempted to argue against them, but after a while, it felt like empty words, nothing he was saying was reaching the heads. “Just wait until my father hears about this! You know very well that my family would _never_ allow something like this to happen!" Even though he seethed these words, he knew his father wouldn't hear about this for weeks, knowing how busy he was. He had the business trip coming up… So, it would be quite a while before anything could truly be done. “Couldn’t you have just given me a proper punishment? I’d rather go into the forbidden forest every day for the entire semester than… that!” He pointed towards the hat accusingly.

They all frowned, watching Dumbledore approach him slowly. "We, as teachers, decided this based on what we thought would be the most beneficial to your future. Sending you to the forbidden forest wouldn’t do you much good, would it? We’re trying to provide you with resources and help."

Draco refused to answer the headmaster words and simply crossed his arms for what felt like the millionth time. _‘Just get this over with so I can fix it.’_ The old leathery hat was placed on his head, and the immediate feeling of invasion made him sick, a headache growing the moment he felt the presence on his head.

"Merlin’s beard, A true Slytherin, his family only further supports it." The hat grumbled aloud, still sounding perturbed. "It's difficult to see anything past that, he’s the perfect example of a pure Slytherin student, I remember it didn’t take me more than a mere second to determine that, and it still rings true."

Draco closed his mind up as much as he could as the hat talked. If the hat couldn't place his second house he wouldn't move, right? The hat only scowled, and he could hear it complaining above him. "If you close your mind off like this, you'll just waste everyone's time. I'll still break through, no matter how stubborn you are, Malfoy." The room fell silent again, and Draco felt his mind being prodded and poked at, he felt uncomfortable. “Just let me do my job and get this ridiculous early meeting over with, I’m tired and I wasn’t meant to be woken up for another 2 weeks.”

‘Just leave me in Slytherin, where I belong. I’d rather die than be sorted in with those other… houses.’ He pleaded, already slightly desperate.

The hat mumbled again, so quiet that only Draco could hear it as if mentally connecting with his voice in his mind. "Ah, finally something to work with." it paused again. "A short-temper I should most definitely note. Not a surprise given how hard it was to get you seated and ready for the rehousing. Ah, and let's not forget to mention your devotion to your family. To your house. Truly the epitome of loyalty towards what you believe in." After shifting for a moment, it whispered to Draco. "I have a feeling, but I can't be too sure. You're almost 100% Slytherin, it seems." 

_‘Almost? Damned hat.’_ Draco felt he was being ridiculed every moment he sat in the office, the heads of houses watching patiently as the silence hung over them all. He bit his lip unnerved, wanting it to be all some complicated nightmare- he just wanted to wake up.

"What house do you desire?" It then asked, "Perhaps your judgement will help me in my decision. Your opinion is just as important, after all."

‘ _Slytherin.’_ He immediately responded, completely and wholeheartedly firm with his reply.

The hat gave a gruff sigh. "Try again, Malfoy. Your fate has already been decided. There’s no going back as it stands on that matter, pick a different house."

‘Ravenclaws are ignorant and self-righteous, I find their methods of success far too reliant on simply knowing the facts and not understanding the concepts. Hufflepuffs are just plain stupid, I’m pretty sure I’ve never met a Hufflepuff I liked. -Don’t even get me started on Gryffindor.’ He felt like he was complaining to Pansy now, with all the things he could say and think to pick apart the other houses.

"Well, what would you have me do about all of that?" The hat simply retorted. “I can’t change your…” It paused a little incredulously. “inaccurate… descriptions of the houses. You focus too hard on the negatives, not nearly looking towards the positives of the houses.”

‘You can’t possibly ask me to choose between them. They’re all equally terrible compared to Slytherin. This entire situation is terrible.’ He crossed his arms in anger as the hat shifted, sighing.

"You're a stubborn blight you know?" It quickly remarked. Draco nearly reached up to toss the hat into the wall but reminded himself the professors were present. He restrained himself. “Consider it differently- Ravenclaws are intelligent and observant, Hufflepuffs kind and empathetic… Gryffindors loyal and brave.”

‘You said you already had an idea, right? Just skip all this bullshit and rehouse me so I can fix it sooner rather than later. My opinion on these dumbass houses isn’t going to change, no matter how much you want it to.’

He felt if he had to pick any house for the hat to place in him, he’d assume it to be with the complacent assholes from the Ravenclaw tower. He didn’t like the Ravenclaws, but he guessed that was where the hat would put him. None of the options were exactly _salient_ to him, but he considered himself smart, he guessed.

"I see. In that case." Its voice and tone fell much more serious, a sign that the dreaded words were about to be said. Its voice was projected into the room, the hat deliberating between his sentences, Draco could feel him deeply prodding as he made his final judgements. "I suppose…" It paused again, making the tension and anticipation nearly thick enough to cut with a knife.

Finally, the hat decided, the prodding feeling in Draco’s mind disappearing as the hat prepared to announce his conclusion. "Draco Malfoy, formerly sorted into the house of Salazar Slytherin…” He started, the professors waiting in suspense. “-will now and henceforth be placed in the house of Godric Gryffindor." 

Draco felt his heart drop to some abysmal place, face twisting up. The other heads of houses quietly dismissed themselves, McGonagall staying behind, watching with a concerned expression. He couldn’t move for a good while, sitting in stunned silence with heavy, numbed legs. Eventually, he looked up to the Headmaster, mustering out a small, shaky “Is this a nightmare?”

The Headmaster frowned slightly and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Malfoy. The hat has chosen for you to be moved to Gryffindor, for you 5th, 6th, and 7th years here.” His voice stayed calm, soft, as an attempt to hopefully pull from his shocked state.

McGonagall gently approached Draco, letting her hand gently place a reaffirming pat on his shoulder. He stayed still, face red and eyes slightly watered. He wasn’t going to cry, it was an unavoidable problem he was just going to have to deal with for a few weeks- but it didn’t stop the situation from sinking in. He felt McGonagall slowly remove the hat from his head and looked down, feeling a sense of shame run through his body as she put the hat away.

“Is there any way to reverse this?” He then managed to muster. “How can I undo this?”

The Headmaster pursed his lips. “The clause cannot be broken by a guardian or caretaker, the only way to undo the rehousing is through a revote to allow for another rehousing to take place- or the order of higher authority such as the ministry.”

Draco nodded, appreciating the transparency Dumbledore was providing. “I see, so once my father returns from his work?” He felt a small rise of hope.

“Assumedly, yes. Your father could, through the use of the ministry, provide you with an ‘escape’ from this rehabilitation effort. Though, I would highly advise you at least attempt to use these resources to your advantage while you have them, Draco.” He sat down at his desk. “If you need help or assistance, you need only ask.”

Draco nodded, there was part of him that really did appreciate that the Headmaster was sympathetic to his concerns- but now he at least had hope. His father would come back, things would be sorted. There was no way to get out of it at the moment, he accepted that with a heavy heart- but he at least had the security of knowing it wasn’t truly permanent, which was the thing that had scared him the most.

“While you are in Gryffindor, however-” McGonagall started, extending a hand to guide him back to the door. “You will be a Gryffindor, in all sense of the matter. I’ll provide the logistics of the situation.” She offered him the most comforting smile she could- which wasn’t much to him at the moment- and he slid off the stool. “Come, I’ll show you to your dorm, and explain how this clause will work, in terms of its requirements.”

He bit his lip and turned, body still a little heavy as he made his way over to her. “I understand.” He says quietly. “I don’t like it- but I know when to pick my battles.” He looked up to her. “This isn’t permanent, but I won’t cause more trouble than it’s worth.”

She nods in understanding and places a hand on his back, directing him down the stairs. “Wait for me, I have a matter to quickly discuss with the Headmaster before we head on our way.” Her attention refocused to the office. He simply nodded and headed down the stairs, a little slow in his steps, however- still in a state of shock, and upset.

As he headed down the stairs, however, he overhead parts of the Professors’ conversation, his ears perking a little as he let his hand trace the bricks of the stairwell.

“How is he?” She asked, a little hurriedly. “I understand you have Miss Fig watching him- but after what happened…”

Dumbledore sighed, a little exasperatedly. “The dementor attack was the work of _someone_ , assumedly on the inside. The dark lord is already sending advanced guard.” Draco’s stomach only further dropped... _the dark lord business_.

“His hearing is tomorrow, I hear Fudge is going to try and change the time, so I’m not present as his defence. If Potter is expelled, the Dark Lord will have nothing stopping him from simply killing the boy! Or worse yet- “

Draco wasn’t sure of what all the pieces were in the conversation he was hearing. _Potter_ had been attacked by dementors, was probably being put on trial for underaged wizardry. If there truly were dementors, then he was, unfortunately, in the right… why were they making such a fuss over the whole situation? Well, he knew why. Dark Lord drama and just... Potter, in general, was a sore subject for the ministry, so was the headmaster.

“Do you have proof the dementors were there? For his trial?” McGonagall the asked.

He heard some papers shift. “I have a testimony witness from a non-muggle. That should be enough, she’s unaffiliated to me, as far as the ministry is concerned.”

Draco was now far enough away to not make out the rest of the conversation- and he was already in such a state of disrepair, he couldn’t bring himself to care any less than he did at the moment. He was more concerned about himself than anything. The rehousing was going to put a huge damper on him- especially his social life- and if _anyone_ found out… he’d be done for. He just had to hope his father would come back soon- preferably before the term even started. If it was sorted out quickly, there would be no reason to worry, no reason to make any dumb decisions he knew he’d make if he ended up in Gryffindor for the semester. He knew the stress of it was going to put a massive blow on his anxieties, and he knew he was prone to making very dumb, split-second decisions under stress and unfamiliarity.

He waited until McGonagall came down, staring out the window at the grounds which were empty, save for the occasional bird or dog. He was trying to focus on breathing, letting his eyes glaze over the rolling courtyard and the spires of the castle. Eventually, McGonagall descending, watching his downtrodden expression for a second before clearing her throat.

“Are you alright?” She asked, heels clicking against the rows of wood.

Draco looked up, a little devoid, still not fully in a state of presence. “About as stable as I can be, Professor.” He says dryly. “I don’t think that arguing is going to solve anything, seeing as that’s probably one of the reasons I got put through this mess in the first place.”

“One of many.” She says softly, nearly above a whisper before letting her gaze move past him, looking out the window towards the main towers. “We’re providing what we can to help reset your educational career on a more… constructive path. Encouraging a change, for what we hope will be for the better.”

He shrugged but didn't impute, putting his hands in his pockets. “I just hope my father can sort it out soon. Surely, professor, you didn’t think to consider my _mental_ status on the event, I assume.” His tone goes a little harsh, but he holds himself from a scowl. “I can’t imagine this is going to provide _any_ positive inflections, I don’t even know what possessed the professors to allow this.”

She begins to walk, gesturing for him to follow. “There are many factors, but your confusion and your concerns are all valid.” She starts, turning the corner towards the astronomy hall. “I can assure you that we did consider many parts of it, however. That including your mental status on the situation.”

He follows, still avoiding eye contact as he does. “A few pins and a couple of measly _comments_ on a few students don’t equivocate to such a _massive_ punishment, Professor.”

They descended the stairs to the east tower which fed into the main halls. “That’s true, Malfoy. Your usual antics are only a small part in the grand scheme of our decisions. I hope you can understand that as educators, we hold different perspectives and presume the outcomes different than you.” Her voice remained relatively calm as she spoke, which had a surprisingly restful effect on Draco, given the situation.

“I know that.” He pushed, taking his hands out of his pockets to cross them in insecurity. “But I still find the entire situation to be a… _trying_ one.”

McGonagall nodded, entering the main hall as he spoke. Her gaze followed up the spiralling stairs, towards Draco’s dreaded future: The Gryffindor Dorms. She redirected her gaze back to Draco. “I understand, and I want you to know I consider this not a punishment, but a great opportunity for you. I want you to utilize me, as a resource to help you.”

“It’s hard to see it any other way, Professor.” He admitted, following her up the stairs. “But I know it’s simply a waiting game now, and I can’t exactly do much- except lie low until it’s over… Your offers and willingness to help, however, mean something.” Draco’s attempts to remain cordial were sincere, if not only a little forced by the situation and his own shocked state. He never disliked McGonagall, respected her for her candour, she was a good teacher too- so if he _were_ to attempt to think positively _(which he couldn’t, not in the moment)_ he would be at least grateful for her offers.

The continued to speak, McGonagall attempting to assure him that her assistance would be one of the tools at his disposal for the remainder of his visit. He liked that she tried to word it in a passing sense, letting the idea seem more temporary than he originally anticipated, but it was a welcomed sense. He also appreciated her transparency as she described his responsibilities which came with clause 5.6. He had to maintain his scores in a full schedule of advanced and double-blocked classes, something he already easily attained. He had an adjusted curfew in order to discourage _‘behaviour’_ as McGonagall worded it. He assumed a lot of the finer details were embedded in the original clause, so he didn’t think too harshly on what she was expecting.

The only responsibility he had any concern over was the fact that he had to maintain a report with his new prefect. That was going to cause many issues in his plan which had already begun concocting in his mind. He didn’t like that he had to speak to someone, a Gryffindor, which he probably knew and most likely didn’t get along with. He never got along with Gryffindors.

“Is there no way I can directly report to you?” He asked, still struggling up the seemingly _countless_ flights of stairs _(He wasn’t sure how a usual lot of Gryffindors did it every day._ ) “I don’t think that I’ll be very… good with weekly updates with a _student_.”

McGonagall sighed, slowing down to let him catch up. “You need to establish a relationship with peer resources as well. The prefect I’ve assigned you to is very kind and very willing to help. I’ll be briefing her on the first day of term, and the updates will only be bi-weekly.” She clasped her hands together. “This clause and program can only work when the student has a multi-faceted system of assistance. Albeit, you won’t be in Gryffindor for long, I still want you to experience the clause for what it is, and I’m _highly recommending_ that you take me up on it.” Her eyes told him it wasn’t optional, and he was, once again, not prepared to argue- so he dropped the topic and nodded, looking away.

After what seemed like hours to Draco of just _climbing flight after flight_ , they arrived at a rather grandiose painting of a lady, who lounged on a marble seat surrounded by what Draco could only describe as an early romanticism painting. _(He only knew that because of his mother, who insisted he read up a little on the more… fine things from the past)_

McGonagall turned to look at him, gesturing to the painting. “This is the entrance to the Gryffindor Dorms; the students refer to her as ‘The Fat Lady.’” The painting looked down and examined him as she introduced her. “We use a password, and the Fat Lady will only open the entrance should the student be allowed in.” She looks back over to the painting. “The password is Ulises Ivar.” As the words left her mouth, the painting slowly creaked open, revealing a small circular room with a corridor leading to a larger room.

As they stepped into the first room- which had a low-hanging ceiling and candles, a few benches and a couple of seats _(he assumed it was a foyer, of sorts, to the common room)_ he could hear a couple of voices echo through the towers. They were just muffled enough to not understand a word of what they were saying- but just clear enough for him to discern they were students.

“We have a few summer students that we house for a few weeks before the term.” She commented, noticing his apprehension. “Though it sounds like they’re in the east common, not the main tower.”

Draco wasn’t sure what she meant by that and let his eyes nervously pan over to the corridor which opened into what he assumed was going to be the ‘main tower’ and swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I’m exactly prepared to make that jump, Professor.” He wasn’t exactly mentally prepared to _face someone_. Especially students. McGonagall and the headmaster were different, but students? No- he assumed he had 2 more weeks before he would have to face a student.

McGonagall seemed to understand and nodded gently, walking down the corridor to check the commons. “They’re in the east tower, as I guessed.” She announced back towards Draco. “Sound just travels… and they can be rather… loud.” She offered him a small smile and a little chuckle. “I’ll give you a short tour of the commons and take you to the dorm you’ll be staying in, and we’ll get you settled for the day. We won’t visit the east tower.”

He nodded slowly, in silent appreciation of her at least _trying_ to make things more bearable for him, and walked down the corridor, feeding into a large, vaulted tower room which bathed in the afternoon light. He was immediately taken aback, by pretty much everything in the room. He was seeing something no other Slytherin would ever see- the Gryffindor commons.

He tried to imbibe the scenery, McGonagall letting him have his moment to examine the room. It was vaulted, at least three stories tall if he had to guess, before starting to close off up into rafters and the panelling of the ceiling. The walls were a beige grey stone brick, arranged in a confusing but pleasing manner, decorated in tapestries and paintings and maroon wallpapers which slightly peeled at the sides. The top was decorated with draping fabrics and banners, in all shades of red and gold, with candles and lanterns hanging from the beams.

The floor was deep rich mahogany which matched the colours of the house, covered in dozens of rugs which were soft and inviting under his shoes. The entire room was rich in bright colours, the large windows which lined the sides of the tower let in brilliant afternoon haze which only further accented the warm tone. As he let himself further examine the room, he noted the tables and chairs and sofas and seats which were nearly placed _haphazardly_. Though, it was less like chaos and more closely related to.. a lived in state. The grand fireplace at the head of the room, crackling with a bright fire, only seemed to tie the whole room together.

Draco noted the opening in between the wall and the other side of the fireplace. Another tower room- smaller than the main one they were standing in. It looked to have more tables and a few towering bookcases which were stocked with trophies, decorations, books, and merlin only knows what else. He could only see what was visible in between the flame and the marbled brick, and he could tell that's where the summer students were. The east tower, McGonagall called it. He turned his back to the fireplace, where he saw two more towers, both had dark oak staircases spiralling up, connecting at the top by a balcony which was decorated with more shelves and seats. More banners, tapestries, and drapes hung along with the linings of the bannister.

‘About as messy as I could have anticipated.’ He pursed his lips, letting his hand feel along the back of the couch. ‘How anyone could manage more than five minutes in this room without a migraine is beyond me.’ He was still silent, unsure of what to say. He had mixed feelings. On one hand, it was a little bit of a headache to try and comprehend what was going on in the room- on the other hand, he had to admit- the Gryffindor commons were… impressive.

  
McGonagall waited patiently between the two sets of spiral stairs, a scroll now in her hand which she had retrieved while he was taking in the room. She gave him his time to take in the whole of it, which he appreciated, once again. "The girl's dorms are on the left, Boys on the right.” She started, pointing to the stairs. “As you ascend the stairs you’ll meet multiple floors of dormitories.” She looked down at her scroll, reading through a list of names. “It seems the room with an available bed in your year… You'll be in room number 5.” She concluded. “The respective bathrooms are downstairs." She then added, gesturing to the different areas she mentioned. "Unlike Slytherin, where there are usually 2-3 beds per room, you'll be rooming with 4 other Students."

_‘Four? Merlin.’_ He cursed in his thoughts, trying to process the _idea_ of being roommates with _four_ Gryffindors. He trembled. Not only at the thought of his... Living conditions, but also of the sheer embarrassment of being placed in the dorm with them made his spine shudder. He silently hoped the people he was going to be forced to live with until his father sorted everything out were tolerable, relatively speaking, and that it could easily be sorted out. “I… understand.” He finally pushed out, making brief eye contact with her, to which she nodded shortly, before leading him up the stairs.

As they reached the fifth floor, she held up a small golden key which unlocked the dark wooden door, allowing it to creak open. "Each member of this room will have a key. Do not lose it under any circumstance." She warned, and he nodded, letting her place the key firmly in his hand before proceeding into the room. It was a decently sized circular space with 5 beds placed evenly along the walls, wardrobes and desks lined the empty room between the beds, a set for each bed, and there was empty space for trunks and personal belongings. In the middle, there was a large heater. 

"Beds are not assigned, it’s usually first come first serve, as I’m to understand from my students." She chuckled, scanning through parts of her scroll again. Draco quickly gravitated towards the bed nestled in an alcove, next to the backside of the door, with a nice window next to it. _‘The perks of being dragged here two weeks early, I guess.’_ He concluded. “Your stuff will be here shortly, I’d imagine within a couple of hours… The rooming situations have changed this year due to a few students being pulled… so let me see just who you’re rooming with this year." She pulled her parchment up again, searching for a moment. "Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas… Ronald Weasley, and…" She paused, her face fell just a little.

Draco stayed quiet, but it was hard to hide his expression. He hated Longbottom and that dumb Weasley whom he’d been fighting for _years_. Of course, his luck was only souring more. His expression seemed to harden a little, at her pause, and he looked up to her.

"Your fourth roommate is..." She seemed surprised by her own list, her voice slightly unnerved. "Harry Potter." She seemed to have not even known that the housing would end up the way it did- her own stagger was evident. 

Draco clenched his fists again but stayed silent for a long moment, taking a deep inhale to stop himself from saying something stupid. He bit the inside of his mouth in an attempt to focus on anything other than what she’d just said, and exhaled slowly. "While I understand that I cannot stop the ‘rehabilitation’ process until my father returns and is able to sort it out,” She slowly, almost apologetically nodded along, “-Is there really nothing you can do to remedy the… roommate situation?” He looked up with pleading eyes. “You of all people should know that Potter and I- we don’t mix.”

McGonagall shook her head. "The dormitories had to be completely moved around and reshuffled due to a number of problems we had over the past years, and especially with the number of students pulling out because of… what happened last year- we don’t really have the resources to redo the entire rooming system, again." She folded up her list, watching Draco. “I’m very sorry, Malfoy, but for the remainder of your time here- you’re most likely going to have to accept that… that’s just how it is until your father remedies the situation.”

Draco, through clenched teeth, took a deep breath. "It shouldn’t be that hard to swap me out with another 5th year. There _are_ other 5th year dorms, are there not?" He approached his bed and sat down. "Potter and I- Weasley, hell- I don’t get along with any of them! I don’t quite understand why a simple switch-out can’t take place." 

McGonagall frowned. “I truly am sorry, Malfoy. But the lists have already been finalised, this was the only free bed we have in the 5th year dormitories.” She looked away. “I wish there was an easier way to explain why I can’t do a ‘simple switch-out’ as you call it, but I simply can’t. I understand that you might not have the best relations with your roommates, but,” She met his eyes. “You’re a 5th year, I have _some_ confidence in your rationalism to not engage in strife.”

He looked down and gripped the sheets of the bed which was, unfortunately, going to call his own. “I’m not stupid- but- isn’t this a little _too_ much?! You’re already forcing me into Gryffindor for… an undetermined but temporary amount of time. Putting me into a dorm with people I have a _terrible_ track record with is only going to make everything worse, it’s unfair- if anything else!”

McGonagall sat down next to him, setting her parchment and a stack of papers at the end of his bed, and sighed. “It is unfair, and I’m sorry about that.” She admitted. “-and I really wish I could edit the list, but I can’t.” Draco stayed silent as she spoke, feeling that she was being sincere. “You’re a smart, and capable young wizard. I don’t have any doubt that you’ll make it through these coming weeks, no matter how long it ends up being… and I’ve known you to be a very resourceful student.” She offered him a small, understanding smile. “Perhaps, if I may be so bold?”

Draco nodded, slowly, as if giving her permission to continue, but he still stayed silent, letting his eyes train on the floor.

“Perhaps it would be a good opportunity to come to learn and understand them. Maybe, you might be able to… bury a hatchet with them and put to rest some of the… the strife which has been between you all for so long.” She smoothed out her robes as she spoke. “Why not make use of your time here, in a productive way?”

Draco was sickened by the notion but didn’t want to go off on her- that would probably cause even more problems for him. He could just stay out of the dorms as much as possible, he could avoid them as much as he could, and hope he never had to deal with that facet of the situation, but just how effective would avoiding be? The whole situation was starting to sink in, and despite his anxieties and agitation, he was starting to come up with a tangible plan, should his father not be able to fix it before the term started.

McGonagall finally stood up, leaving the stack of papers on his bed, and sighed. “I know you’ll be capable of getting through this, Draco. And, should you need anything, please come ask me. I am a resource for you during your rehousing. As much as it may be hard to believe, I want to help you in the ways I can.”

He nodded weakly, still a little lost in thought as his gears starting turning, and kept his focus on the floorboards. She left with a small exhalation and Draco was left alone with his thoughts for the first time since he arrived, and all he had running through his mind was plans- something to keep him sane until everything was fixed.

The two weeks where he was forced to stay in an almost empty Hogwarts was uneventful at best. He was able to evade all interaction with any Gryffindors, and very often found himself in the Great Hall or riding a set of stairs to ignore the elephant in the room, and in his mind. McGonagall, for the most part, left him to his own devices, respecting his boundaries- another thing which he appreciated. She didn't make him do anything, nor did she make any effort to push the idea of rehabilitation on him. She would occasionally spot him in the halls wandering, or in one of the dozens of studies, or in the library, and would sometimes ask if he was getting acquainted with Gryffindor commons, or maybe even the summer students, but he always politely put off the idea, and she didn’t push it any more.

He wrote to his mother quite a few updates, about the rehabilitation, the dorms, the responsibilities he had now- about the whole situation, in the most civilised way he could. She tried her best to improve his mood through her responses, and sent over some of the books he wanted, but she couldn’t get in contact with his father- which was difficult. She was empathetic to the situation though, which helped. Her not being completely upset at his moving to Gryffindor was something, if anything, to keep him optimistic for when his father was able to fix it.

The dreaded day that Draco was stressing over was almost here, however. The first day of the official semester. The day when all the students would board the stupid muggle train and come to Hogwarts, and he’d have to crack down on his plan. While there were a few kids already at the school, taking extra classes or simply there because of personal reasons, once the first day arrived, there would be hundreds of kids roaming the halls and bearing witness to him in red. The idea itself was enough to make him ill- but he had a hodgepodge plan- and it would all be over soon. That was the only thing keeping him together, at the moment.

Only a day before the semester officially began, he sat holed up in his bed. He didn’t want to move or do anything. He just wanted to sit there in dismay, the situation only becoming more and more real with every passing hour.

McGonagall had to ruin his brooding hours, however, when she knocked on the door gently.

“Good evening.” She said gently, examining him as he pulled another blanket over himself. “I just wanted to come in and check in with you before the term starts tomorrow.” She approached the bed and pat the wooden post.

“Is that all?” Draco muttered under the muffled covers.

“No, I also wanted to inform you that you’ll be required to take the train, as every student is required to do before the term begins. A requirement from the ministry, as I’m sure you know.” She gently put a hand on his shoulder. “And, I have your uniforms here, Madame Malkins had your sizes on record, so I took the liberty of ordering you a few sets, and a cloak. My apologies for having them arrive so late.”

He nodded, sitting up. “Thank you, professor.” He managed to push out. “I assume you’ll want me to head down to Hogsmeade tomorrow morning, and take the Floo network to Kings Cross?” He eyed the package of clothing as he spoke,

“Correct, I’d suggest leaving around 8- if you want to avoid seeing any of the other summer students. They usually leave in a large group around 9.” She gave him a reassuring pat one last time before getting up. “I do believe in you, Draco.” She finished, before leaving the room.

He was left to his thoughts again, which made him feel unnerved, ostracized in his own mind. He wasn’t sure what to do, or say, he was at a loss. He felt exhausted by the idea, which he supposed worked well in his favour, he could probably sleep through the night, but his mind was still clouded, a thousand thoughts and scenarios playing through every moment he had to think.

After storing the uniforms away, leaving one out for the next day, and the cloak, he laid down. He had to admit- if there was one thing he did like about the situation, it was the bed. Gryffindors had amazing bedding, and the view from the dorm windows was fantastic, to say the least. He’d never really been a fan of the underground, nearly _dungeon-like_ commons Slytherin had- and their beds were firmer, more open- he felt a sense of security in the four-post, frumpy mess that the Gryffindors had. It was easy to drape cloth on the sides and make his own personal bubble, and he liked that, especially given the situation.

He drifted relatively fast, being supported by the soft, plush mattress and pillows around him, and fell asleep, exhausted by the idea of what could possibly come in the next few days.

He’d have to deal with it. No matter how much complaining he’d do- he knew it wouldn’t be resolved until his father received word, but he had _some_ optimism. He could deal with it. It was temporary, and he could lie low- avoid everything until it blew over. He just had to get through it. Tough it out for a couple of days, maybe a few weeks, at most. It’s not like he was _actually_ going to stay in Gryffindor, after all. It was all temporary.


	2. In which Draco Starts Lying.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School has started, Draco is still in Gryffindor. He needed to get through the train ride, and the feast, and pretty much everything. 
> 
> It was going to be a hard couple of weeks.
> 
> Not to mention a certain trio happened to keep crossing his path, which was rather unfortunate for him.

Draco awoke the next morning with a feeling of dread hanging on his heart. _Terrified_ is a good way to describe it, he was terrified of pretty much the entire situation. He had a plan for what he intended to do- for the unknown amount of time he was going to be trapped in Gryffindor- but that didn’t stop him from all the dropping feelings in his stomach. He felt exhausted.

He quickly got ready for the day, opting to his more comfortable slacks and a clean-cut sweater, and left for the village. He carried a single box with him, since his trunk was already in the dorm, which had one of his uniforms. The idea of what he was carrying, the idea that _he’d be wearing it_ , made his head spin when he thought about it a little too much. _‘It’s all temporary.’_ He reminded himself, which helped to calm him down. _‘It’ll all get fixed, it’s all temporary.’_

With the flick of his wrist and the toss of Floo Powder, he was met with the crowded, annoyingly loud scene of platform 9. He was early, which was nice. No running into potential problems, like Gryffindors- or Slytherins for that matter. His plan required a complete shutdown of any unnecessary contact, after all.

The platform was mostly populated by young first years and their parents, the excited, still-new to all of it sort. The ones who weren’t plagued by OWLs or anything- just the mystery of magic and how fun it must be. He wished he still had that wonder, but his entire body was full to the brim with trepidation instead.

He boarded the Hogwarts Express quickly and ignored every face he saw- eventually locating an empty compartment which he quickly claimed for himself. He shut the door and locked it, pulling the curtains down before settling down in the starchy, fabric seat. After a few moments, feeling the train start to be boarded by more students, he closed his eyes. He intended to sleep the entire trip off, if possible.

He considered how counterproductive it was to force everyone to take the train when the floo network was just as efficient as a muggle-made set of steel boxes with wheels, if not more effective. He knew why they had forced him to take the train, but it still wasn’t fun, by any means. The train was only fun the first time around. Every other time he’d been forced to take the train, it had been an utter _drag_.

It wasn't until the train began to move and everyone had to be seated when problems started to arise. He realised there probably wouldn't be enough seats for everyone if he and every other asshole were to hog an entire compartment for themselves- and he couldn’t really afford to be starting anything- not while on “rehabilitation.” People were probably going to have to sit with him. The sound of the corridor and the number of students who still didn’t a seat just made that more evident.

He just hoped either he got lucky, and the compartment was his for the trip- or whomever it was, would easily be forgotten. A couple Hufflepuffs wouldn’t be bad, he couldn’t recall a time he had ever had a problem with a Hufflepuff.

Of course, however, it couldn't be someone he didn't know and would most likely forget- no. It couldn’t be a nice pod of Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws which he could easily dismiss after the ride. The knock on the door came very sharp and sudden, and he slowly sunk further into the corner to remain unseen, his heart pounding just a little as he realised it would be his first contact with another student after _what happened._ He’d been silently calling it _‘The Incident’_ in his head.

"You think it's a faulty lock?" A rather bored voice pressed, one that Draco, unfortunately, recognised very quickly.

"No, Ron, I think whoever's in here is asleep, or something of the sort," Another voice answered, but her reply only proved what he was worried of: _It was Weasley and Granger_ \- which meant that ** _he_** was also with them. Such luck, huh.

"This is literally the last compartment left, we’ve checked every other one- Should we split and take single seats in random compartments or..?" Weasley asked.

"No, let's try knocking louder- I’m sure they'll understand," Granger said before a loud rapping beat so close to his head, his headache only seemed to multiply. His shoulders sunk as he weighed the options. If he didn't answer they’d split right? A perfect situation for him. If he stayed still, they wouldn't even know it was him hiding away.

"Really now- they aren't answering. We should-" Weasley was cut off, Draco tried to discern what was happening. "Wait, Hermione! We can't just-"

He could hear a shifting noise, then the swish of a wand. _‘Of course they’d be willing to just magic their way in. Really on-brand for a bunch of Gryffindors.’_ He stood up slowly, taking a deep breath to try and calm _some_ nerves before gripping the handle tightly.

"I'm sure they heard us, Hermione." Potter then said- finally adding to the conversation. He sounded very beat down, instead of his usual prattish tone.

He slowly cracked the door and held it so they couldn't push their way in. "What?" He pushed through his teeth.

"Of course it would be Malfoy. Just our luck." Weasley grumbled.

Draco frowned and opened the door all the way, giving the three of them a once over. "Why aren't you in the fancy open car with your Slytherin friends?" Potter asked, his voice sounded defeated in a way. He looked extremely tired- dejected even.

"I have a migraine." Draco avoided, scoffing lightly. "No more seats for rejects like you lot?" Granger frowned and sighed. “I thought people would bow down and make way for the Great Harry Potter.”

"You'll have to deal with us, Malfoy. The prefects and attendants called for everyone to sit down, and these are the only seats available, we’ve checked literally everywhere else." He stayed standing for a moment, deliberating the situation. He was really starting to get a headache now- but, after a moment, and a couple glares from the three- he moved back to sit down, next to the window. He kept his sight away from the three. He shouldn’t get into trouble on day one. That would be terribly annoying. _Especially_ with those three, knowing how much they got up to.

They cautiously sat down after setting their bags in the over carriage, all on the opposite side from him, with looks of genuine surprise plastered across their faces. “Don’t look so surprised, no one wants prefects on their ass. If you’re really sitting in here, then it must not be much of a choice, so go at it." He muttered after noticing their discretion. They seemed to relax slightly when he spoke up, but none of them could find words to say, it seemed.

The ride was carried out in mostly silence for the first couple of hours, only peppered with short comments or snide remarks every time they passed something remotely interesting. They were usually a rather chatty bunch, so the silence surprised Draco. It was probably his presence that caused all the unnerve, he felt outed a little. Cornered, even, being stuck in a box with three Gryffindors which he’d never gotten along with- two of which were _technically_ his roommates.

Eventually, Granger piped up, smoothing out her jacket. "So how _was_ your summer, Harry?" She started. "Besides the dementors attacking you and your cousin, that is. Did you do anything interesting?"

Draco's ears perked up, but he remained still. He'd heard about the dementor attack in the muggle area from his Father's co-workers who occasionally visited the manor during the summer break, however, they all remained quite vague when he was present.

"Boring. I couldn't really go anywhere, and after what happened last year… Had to stay on the down low, like usual." He fell silent and glanced over at Draco, reading his expression- searching for any signs of hostility. Draco remained quiet again, a little annoyed that they all seemed to be expecting him to lash out. "After what happened to Cedric, it all pretty much went downhill."

Granger nodded, looking down at the floor of the carriage for a moment. "We never did get the specifics of it all- just the trial afterwards. What exactly happened?” Her voice seemed fake in some way, as if saving face in front of Draco, forced into a more monotonous kind of inflection.

He shrugged. "My cousin was being- well he was being him, the usual sort of thing. The sky went dark and we ran. Ended up in a tunnel where the two came in. It's pretty self-explanatory from there." He stared at his hands. "My cousin was left pretty much devoid for days, but my Patronus was strong enough to steer them both off, after a bit of struggle though." 

_`Potter can cast a Patronus charm?_ Draco thought, keeping himself from showing his surprise. ‘ _Since when- that’s… way too high level, for an incoming 5 th year.’_ He turned slightly, and began to open his mouth, but shut it again. He probably shouldn’t be saying anything odd- since he’d be forced to room with them for an undetermined amount of time. He didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention.

The three took notice and stared at him, a long period of silence filled the empty space in between the bumps and shakes of the train, he could practically cut the stillness with a knife. "Did you have something to add, Malfoy?" Granger asked after a moment.

He let out a sigh and shrugged, he wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to say. "I'll admit, I suppose, it’s impressive you can cast a Patronus under such supposed conditions.” He started, picking his words carefully. There was no reason to aggravate them- not while he was… in his position. “I mean, assuming it happened, of course." He looked back outside the window with a passive demeanour.

Potter frowned just slightly. "Assuming it happened?” He echoed. “We proved the dementors were truly there, and I got through the trial." He turned to face the door, his frown growing even more. "I suppose not everyone believes that though." 

Draco decided to continue the conversation, for whatever reason. "Well I’m sure you’ve seen the papers. I’m just being realistic with the situation, is all." Draco examined the three as he remarked, their faces showing slight hints annoyance. "I’m just being realistic as to how others might feel, no one's really heard from you, Potter, since you've been stuck out in the middle of the muggle world for pretty much the entire break. No one can really discern the truth from the lies, besides what the Daily Prophet has been putting out. My father, of course, has his theories, though." 

They suddenly looked almost surprised, probably because of his nearly _passive_ approach. They turned to face him. "So what do you think, then?" Weasley asked. "I mean, you just said you were being realistic to ‘others,’ what about yourself then, huh?" Draco felt as if they were prodding a little, as if expecting a fight maybe- but he just shrugged.

"I don't know, I'll admit." He too, in turn, faced the three rather than the windows. "My father says it's all a mess, and that You and Dumbledore are planning some sort of attack on the ministry by concocting this… Plan. He’s like Fudge, I guess.” The three of them frowned again. “Though, I don't think that's true, I don’t think that you or Dumbledore had some crazy scheme planned to shake the ministry with all the ‘you-know-who’ and dementor stuff." He wasn’t sure why he was choosing to be honest with them, probably an effect of his displacement and his _troubled_ past couple of weeks, but he knew what he believed in, given everything he’d heard over the past few months.

"Then what do you think is true, about the whole… situation?" Granger asked. "We only ask because we're worried about Harry, and how the others are going to react to him. I mean, of course we think one way, but we need to be prepared, for the rest of them." She leaned back a bit.

"My opinion, objectively, doesn't really mean much, don't you think?" He mumbled. "I’m pretty sure that most people believe the Prophet, most people are… followers. Don’t have their own opinions. Plus, I mean, what would my thoughts matter anyways?"

Granger shrugged. "Opinions outside of the Prophet, and our own are good. We’re just curious, that’s all." Potter and Weasley remained silent as Granger asserted herself, but didn’t disagree or stop her.

"I suppose, if I had to assert myself… relatively speaking, I’m for neither side. I don’t think that you or Dumbledore… have some complicated scheme to overthrow the ministry. I don’t think you’re stupid enough to get yourself involved in something like that." He paused. "But I also don't think that The Dark Lord has returned, I don’t know what happened in the maze that night- but I don’t exactly _jump_ on the idea that he’s back. I just- It doesn't seem..." He faltered. "I’m for neither side, I think it’s just… complicated.” He shrugged and threw his hands up a little in exasperation. “I wouldn’t call you a liar, but I wouldn’t believe it unless… I saw it for myself, I suppose.” Which he hoped to _Merlin_ he never would.

They exchanged glances, staying quiet until they knew he was done, and Weasley spoke up. "That's fair, I ‘spose. A lot less uhh… Angrier than I was expecting, Malfoy. A lot more…" 

“Rational.” Granger finished his sentence. "I'll admit, I wasn't expecting such an objective response from you."

Potter leaned forward and tilted his head, "I'm not stupid, you say? A compliment from Malfoy?" He laughed lightly, trying to raise the mood, though his voice was still tired.

 _‘I didn't mean it like that; I just meant you weren't as stupid as they were making you out to sound. You're still stupid just not-’_ Draco argued in his mind trying to rationalise the words he had just said, the whole situation was making him act weird. "I just said what I thought. You're still stupid, Potter, just not that stupid. Not stupid enough to engage in some large-scale ministry attack" 

Potter kept his smile _(albeit weak,)_ checking his watch with a short glance. "I'll take it, thanks Malfoy- but it's almost time for us to be arriving. I'm going to go change, don’t really want to change right before dinner." As he got up and shuffled over to the exit of the compartment, Granger and Weasley both locked eyes with him, watching him.

As soon as the door drew closed, Weasley leaned forward. "What's your game here? Bein' nice an' stuff?" He asked. "Usually you'd be more like ‘my father's told me this,' ‘well I've heard this' ‘people like you just don't understand blah blah blah’ ‘stupid blood traitor, stupid Potter." He imitated Draco, _poorly_ might he add, and he sighed in response.

"I’ve too bad of a headache to really care right now.” He started, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. “None of us wanted to sit with each other, so why cause unnecessary conflict? Especially on the first day of term. I’m sorry I’m apparently not meant to have my own opinions on the matter, you lot.” His voice went a little sharp. “I can’t be bothered to make things complicated! Especially after—" He froze mid-sentence, almost mentioning the rehousing he went under only a couple weeks prior. He felt his face heat up and he looked away, his mouth shutting quickly.

"After what, Malfoy?"

He disregarded Grangers question, shaking his head. "It shouldn't concern you, Granger." He then said. "It's just a problem that one of _my_ stature has to face. Not like any of you would understand or care to know." She opened her mouth as if to retaliate but closed it, looking down to the floor of the compartment.

“Well I’m not complaining.” Weasley sighed. “You not fighting us for once is a welcome change in my books.” Draco rolled his eyes, and looked out the window again to the rolling hills. "You've been very mellow all this ride." He remarked.

“Whatever, don’t get too used to it.” He sighed.

The two of them went relative silent after that, only quietly exchanging between themselves as opposed to forcing more conversation on him. Thank god for that, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take before he snapped at them.

Potter eventually returned, donned in the red robes Draco was particularly bothered by- and Weasley and Granger took their leave to change. He settled himself down across from Draco and examined him quietly, noticing he only had a box.

“Where’s your bags?” He pointed to the overhead compartment. “All you’ve got is that box.”

Draco eyed the box with pursed lips. “My trunk is already at the school, for personal reasons.” He said simply. Still on a scarily accurate truth-train. “The box just has my uniform in it, that’s all.”

He nodded, not prying further on the subject _(which Draco was thankful for, since Granger and Weasley liked to pry.)_ and looked out the window. “So how was your summer?” He then added.

Draco pursed his lips again. “Trying to make idle conversation?” He nearly spat back.

“Well, yeah.” He retorted back in an unimpressed tone. “Sorry, nevermind.”

 _‘Perhaps it would be a good opportunity to come to learn and understand them. Maybe, you might be able to… bury a hatchet with them and put to rest some of the… strife which has been between you all for so long.’_ Remembering McGonagall's voice made Draco go quiet, he shrugged, an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. “My break was alright, I suppose. My father hosted many ministry meetings at our house, though, which was a little frustrating.” He crossed his arms. “It was a lot of… people pleasing, as a host.”

“Oh.” Potter looked over to him. “Well- I’m sorry. People pleasing is never fun, I understand that one.” He chuckled dryly. “Your father’s an Unspeakable, right?”

Draco nodded. “He’s a senior associate, thought I don’t know what he gets up to at work, that’s kind of the point of an Unspeakable.” He looked away. “Though, he does deal with a lot of the inter-ministry politics, that’s why all the meetings end up at our manor.”

“Unspeakables always confused me.” He then said a little offhandedly. “I mean, no one knows anything about them or their jobs.”

Draco kept watching the passing landscapes. “I think they’re respectable, though I don’t think I’d ever want to be one.” He pushed out a small chuckle, without really thinking about it.

Harry looked a little surprised by the laugh, but chose not to comment on it, following Draco’s line of sight to the passing trees. “I wouldn’t mind being an Auror though.” He said quietly.

“Of course you’d want to be an Auror, Harry Potter- seeking out all the bad wizards.” He finally looked over to him. “You already do that though, don’t you? Barty Crouch Jr, the whole nonsense third year, the Heir of Slytherin, even first year.”

Potter smiled. “What is this? Another compliment?” The more they spoke, the more Potter’s usual prattish tone came out. The bigger his headache grew.

“Shut it.” He quipped. “I was just saying. Sorry for choosing to not start anything on the first day of term.”

Potter broke his stare and looked over to the door, adjusting his red and gold tie before taking a long inhale. "I didn't think you could choose to not be mean to us." Draco turned again to face Potter slowly, seeing his still exhausted expression. "Y'know you don't have to be our enemy or anything." He then said. Draco shook his head, but as he opened his mouth, Granger and Weasley opened the door and entered.

"Maybe, if things were different, I suppose." He said suddenly, being vague in the presence of all three of them, feeling cornered again. He stood up and grabbed the box that contained his uniform, pulling the watch from his pocket to read the time. _‘Maybe if things had gone just a little differently, in our pasts.’_ He made his way to the door and exited into the narrow hallways that connected the cars, and glanced back to see Granger and Weasley, concerned faces were strewn as they bombarded Potter with questions, seeming to have loosened the moment that he was outside the car. They were really being careful in front of him.

He turned again, shaking his head. _‘Maybe my ass, damn idiots.'_ and weaved through the students, coming upon the Slytherin car. The closest changing car was just after it. He considered turning around and walking all the way to the back of the train to the other changing car, but before he could really make his choice, another student had come up behind him and nearly pushed him into the open-seat car- which meant he just had to suck it up and walk through, holding the box which slightly shaky hands.

He got a few nods to some of the lower-key students he knew, however, he tried to ignore the table that Pansy and the others sat at. He noticed they had saved him a seat, even though the 7-hour ride was almost over. At the sight of him passing, Pansy stood up, waving his attention over.

"Draco! Where have you been?" She tried to beckon him over to the table but he gently shook his head, trying to continue through the car.

"I don’t have time to chat- I've got to change into these stupid robes, unfortunately." He glared at the box and tried to press forward.

"But where've ya been sittin'? We saved yer usual seat." Crabbe added, there was a genuine concern in his voice- though in Draco’s current mindset, that didn’t do much.

"I had a headache this morning. I was in a private compartment resting." He said as he moved on. "Don't bother waiting for me when we stop, I have some business up ahead that I have to deal with."

Without responding, or even hearing what his friends said, he squeezed into the changing car, feeling slightly bad for just leaving them alone- but he had to do what he had to do, until the whole situation blew over. A few weeks, at most, and he’d apologise to them.

The changing car had two rows of stalls to accommodate for students who wanted to change before their arrival to the school. For Draco, this was necessary. He slipped into one of the private stalls and sat down at the stool with a sigh, allowing himself to exhale a long, deflating exhale before slouching down and staring at the box in his hands, before looking up to the mirror. He frowned. He didn't look like a Gryffindor. He didn't even resemble the obnoxious dimwits that lived in that damned tower. He was refined, polished, his hair slicked back and his coat perfectly clean. He was a Slytherin by design.

His hand subconsciously raised his head, gingerly touching the gelled hair that stayed in place. Somehow, he let his mind wander to dangerous territories. What would he look like if he stripped himself of all the inhibitions he had? _Would he look like a Gryffindor?_ It was a scary, treacherous thought. One he caught himself thinking before allowing it to fester anymore. He wasn’t even sure why he’d thought it in the first place- his mind really was all over the place.

His hand shot down and he shook his head. ‘ _No.’_ He quickly buried the thoughts. _‘I am not a Gryffindor_ , _I don't need to look like one either.’_ He quickly undid his collar, and after a few moments of hesitation, he opened the box.

The lion's crest that adorned the cloak was bright red was impossibly frustrating to Draco. The tie was just as bright, and it reminded him of all the stupid Gryffindors he hated. The bloodtraitors, impures, the half-bloods and the stupid mudbloods. Everything he despised about the house. When he was thrown into the forbidden forest with Potter and his stupid meddling friends, or when he broke his arm and made a fool of himself with that damned beast when Potter could do it, when Potter grabbed every ounce of fame and notoriety from that damned wizard cup. _‘That damn Potter. All the time.’_ His migraine was only getting worse.

He pulled his sweater off and buttoned his shirt up, pulling the vest through, the red crest was sewn on, weighing on his chest once the fabric settled against his skin. He turned his back to the mirror which was attached to the side of the stall, refusing to look at himself as he put on every piece of the outfit, bit by bit.

He slowly picked up the tie, popping his lapel before bringing the fabric around, wrapping the silk against itself. After the tie was procured in place and tied snug around his collar, he tucked it into the vest. The pants and shoes were the same, they always were, and then he pulled the large cloak out from the box. The thick black fabric and the maroon silk waved around as he adjusted to slide the sleeves on. Of course, with the full ensemble on, it fit perfectly. Malkins always got it right.

Still facing the far wall, away from the mirror, he looked down at his hands, seeing the maroons and reds and golds made him slightly dizzy, he felt weighted down. He shifted his weight and closed his eyes to take a deep, adulating breath. He was going to sit in this car until the train cleared out, then he'd pull the cloak hood over and ride the last cart out to the school. That was the first step in his little ephemeral plan.

He was afraid of the idea of waiting in that stupid dorm room, not knowing when Longbottom or Weasley or Thomas... **_or Potter_** would bust through the door expecting another year of fun and stupid adventures just to come face-to-face with someone who, quite frankly, shouldn't even be there. He planned to wait everything out. Wait for the last cart out to the school, wait until _right_ after dinner, then he’d run up to the dorm, practically throw himself into his bed, and draw the curtains around his space. He’d leave his hood up, hide away and not face the reality of the situation.

The reality being that he, on ever logistical level in that very moment, was a Gryffindor.

He waited until he could feel the halt of the train and listened as the kids got off. He sat it out for a few more minutes until the train stood still and he could seldom hear voices before he got up, brushing and smoothing out his cloak. Out of curiosity alone, his eyes began to turn to the mirror. When his reflection met his eyes, he turned around fully, in one fluid motion.

He looked off, a bit weird even, the red certainly didn’t suit him… but at the end of the day it was a _school uniform_. The all fundamentally looked the same. It wasn’t exactly… the worst thing, as of yet. Still wasn’t good, by any stretch of the imagination, but there were worse things to focus on. Like the roommates, or the uncertainty. He traced the crest, and the tie, and the maroon inlays of his robes. It was different, but not… not bad.

Though, about as quickly as thought was conjured into his mind, he dismissed it. _‘It’s terrible.’_ He corrected himself. _‘You are a Slytherin, and this is an act of humiliation in its own right. You deserve to be wearing green and silver right now, not gold and red.’_ It only further frustrated him that he’d even let himself slip. His brain was wracked from two weeks of stress, that was it.

He opened the door to the changing room slowly, luckily, not a soul in the compartment, and hopefully- the whole train. He pulled up the hood on his cloak, covering his face with the robes, and made his way to the car door to exit off onto the platform. Outside, it was empty, save for the few birds and animals that rustled in the forest. He was safe, for now, he concluded.

He shuffled in the direction of the thestral carts that pulled them to the school; and watched as the last few were beginning to move. He approached the last one, which sat a strange girl, but no one else. She didn't look up as he boarded, Reading her magazine upside down with a small hum. ‘ _One reason to be thankful I wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw, I guess.’_ He thought, watching from under the fabric as the girl nodded her head every now and again to the paper. The… Quibbler? What kind of nonsensical _rubbish_.

Unfortunately, the strange girl with the magazine wasn't the only one who needed a ride, because of course, a trio of annoyingly familiar voices came into view. He shrunk into the seat as they slowly boarded and sat down. _‘What luck.’_ He cursed in his head as they spoke; introducing themselves to the weird girl. Then, of course, that Longbottom kid also had to be dreadfully late to the party. All they needed was that prat of a _Thomas_ boy, and the whole dorm would be together! Such joy.

They tried to talk to him, noticing the Gryffindor robes, but Draco had nothing to say. He glazed over and watched the path they took as it passed them. How was he going to explain this? He would eventually have to. _"Oh hey Potter, Weasley, by the way. Surprise I'm in Gryffindor now as punishment for bullying you!"_ He wasn't sure why he was so concerned with them, but he could already feel his pride in shambles, even worse than the rehousing itself was facing them, of all the insults of the world. _"Professor McGonagall told me to play nice with you all until my father fixes this so don't screw this up any more than it already is!"_

When they arrived at the school, the customary feast deigned to begin. The headmaster was waiting at his pedestal, holding off for every student to be seated before the first years would be housed. Draco, of course, waited until every other Gryffindor was seated until he dared to sit down, luckily on the complete opposite ends from Potter, right at the end of the table closest to the doors. He hoped he could get through the night silently, after the feast he would silently follow the Prefects to the tower commons, where he'd probably have to meet his specific Prefect he'd report into, then he'd be allowed to sulk in the dorm room, with the stupid, loud, rowdy kids. Perhaps he could charm his curtains to block out the sound, soundproof his little bubble, but he wasn’t sure yet- he didn’t know what the situation would look like.

As Dumbledore made his usual speech littered about with warnings and hopes, a lady in pink with a prim and hateful look in her eyes cut him off to make her own speech. It took a lot of balls to do something like that, he’d admit. Draco watched her, following her with his eyes as she paced the stage, enunciating words with her hands. Her voice gave his previous headache a run for its money- this one was far worse.

He glanced over to the Slytherin table, who seemed to get a kick out of it to some degree- while the table he sat at, full of the ‘crazy’ kids, sat in utter shock. They murmured under their breath and he could hear it.

**_"What in Merlin’s fresh hell is this? Is Dumbledore seriously letting the Ministry take over? She’s on the council. Umbridge, works right for Fudge. My mum’s told me about her before, she’s a piece of work."_ **

**_"What a bitch- I can already tell. I mean just… look at this. I’ve already got a headache starting."_ **

**_"Another dark arts teacher? When will they finally stop? She looks terrible. What a load of waffle. At least get someone actually equipped for the job."_ **

He had to agree, Professor Umbridge..? Looked terrible, to say the least, the pink just added to it. Her voice made him cringe up and she just seemed… off. The whole Gryffindor table was uncomfortable as she spoke. So were the Hufflepuffs, and the Ravenclaws, and some of the Slytherins were… less enthusiastic.

After her… concerning speech about pruning practices and other controlling statements, they housed the first years, to which Draco glared at the hat the entire time. Maybe if he glared hard enough, the stupid hat would feel it. He was bitter, very bitter.

Not too long after that, once the first years had been settled, the feast began and he served himself quietly. No one bothered to speak to Draco, as they couldn't tell who he was exactly. Not to mention they were already so caught up in their loud, ambitiously annoying screaming to notice him anyway. He ate silently, pulling his hood down even more every time he got a glimpse of the Slytherin table. He could see Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise waiting for him- expecting him to slip in late- not this time. ‘ _I'm already here, unfortunately.’_ He looked down at his food, feeling a little guilty. But it’s not like he could go over there and sit with them.

They followed the prefects up the long-winded stairs to the pairing, the head boy explaining the whole ‘Ulises Ivar’ thing as they entered the commons. Immediately upon entrance every upperclassman spread out. Some made their way up to their dorms, while others to the couches, all talking in their little groups. Gryffindors were surprisingly… lax, behind their closed doors. The first years were all taken to their dorms to rest and recover from the next experiences while everyone else caught up. That's when they started drawing attention to Draco, because he was very obviously _not_ a first year.

One of the prefects approached him, ignoring the stares from the rest of the house, smiling as she led him off to the side, where no one could see them. He raised his hood slightly. She was a 7th year, tall with bright blue eyes and a soft smile.

"You're Draco Malfoy? The rehoused student?" She asked him with a polite tone, no hostility or surprise in her voice. “My name is Eleanora Fawley, please call me Eli.”

"Unfortunately, Yes. I am. The rehoused student, I mean." He crossed his arms, watching the groups behind them with a unnerve. He was surprised with how well he was handling the prefect, but he wasn’t going to get ahead of himself.

"Professor McGonagall gave you the run down, I’m sure. About the rules and stuff for the rehousing." He nodded, and she smiled in satisfaction. “Good. I’m surprised, that there was even a ‘clause 5.6.’ I didn’t think such a situation was possible, and yet here we are.” She laughed a little.

“It’s funny isn’t it? This whole situation?” He got a little edged with his tone. “Stop laughing, I’m a _Malfoy._ ”

She went quiet but didn’t look too surprised by his retort. “Sorry.” She corrected herself, wiping the smile off her face. “I understand that this is hard for you, Draco.”

“Don’t call me Draco.” He spat quickly.

“Alright… Malfoy.” She said quietly. “Well, I know that this is hard… but I am another resource for you, you know.” She crossed her arms. “If you need anything, please feel free to ask, I’m happy to help you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He said quietly. “I don’t plan on being here long, my father with fix this, soon. So I’ll check in every night, but don’t expect anything else.” She nodded, keeping her mouth shut, looking down at the ground.

Draco went quiet and examined the floor, then to the groups around them, then sighed. People were staring at him, no one had recognised them, but they surely noticed that he wasn’t there before- he was somewhat of a mystery.

He perked his ears, trying to pick out any gossip while Fawley checked her parchment of instructions again for any last minute reminders, and scanned the room to the best of his ability. He’d shoved at least 70% of the people in the room at least once in the halls. He knew most of them, for the snide remarks he’d hashed out, for his groups’ tendency to push and fight.

“Who’s that? The one talking to Eli.” One of the… 4th years he assumed… glanced over, pointing to him to his group of friends.

His friend, another 4th year, probably, looked over. She gave him a once over. “I have no idea- definitely not a first year though. He’s way too big to be a first year. He’s gotta at least be a 4th year.” His friend responded in a hushed voice, pushing his hand down. “Don’t point, though- that’s rude!”

“Well I have no idea who that is, maybe a transfer?”

“Wait- we have a transfer?! Why didn’t McGonagall say anything? I wonder what school he’s originally from. No one hardly transfers schools.”

“We could ask- oh oh go on, Eli’s talking to him, so he must be fine!”

Draco grimaced at the group and turned to Fawley, who looked over to the group and gave them a small shake of her head. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you, if that’s what you want.” She eyed him. “I can say you’re a transfer, and you need space.”

“That would be for the best, Fawley.” Draco kept his composure, despite the growing number of stares on them. “I need my space, and I am a transfer. Just not from another school, of course. Keep everything as on the down low as you can, and I don’t foresee there being any problems at all.” She nodded, and he sighed. “Thank you, though. For your understanding.”

She smirked. “Oh? A compliment?”

“Shut it. I see understanding and compromise where it is, I’m not ungrateful for that.” He retorted, adjusting his collar. “If that’s all, I’m going to bed.”

She nodded and moved aside to allow him up the stairs to the top loft, which led to the dormitories. He ascended the stairs with some amount of haste, still feeling eyes watch him- but as he reached the banister, giving the common room a scan, the entire room fell quiet.

Potter had just walked in, and people were already up in arms, leering at him almost as harshly as they would if they knew it was Draco under the robes. He tried to spur some light conversation with a couple of the other 5th years, and they tried to respond.

"-Better than Cedric's." A kid said, and the room went dead silent. 

He peered down to see the elusive Harry Potter with a sad expression, nodding solemnly. The looks and stares he was getting from around the room were almost exclusively negative scowls; save for a few faces of concern. He thought _he_ was getting attention, but it was nothing compared to _his_ unpopularity at the time. As Potter tried to head for the stairs another voice butted in.

He could hear an aggressive exchange take place after that; Potter called the kid _(Finnigan, if he remembered correctly)_ out and called his mom stupid, which was low, even for Draco. He stood almost impressed before clamouring up the stairs at the sound of Weasley's voice. He didn’t have the time or the mental capacity to run into them, not while in uniform, in the _middle_ of the Gryffindor Commons- or in _their_ dorm. He shuddered at the thought.

He entered the dorm and practically threw himself into his bed with a loud _‘fwomp’_ and buried himself into the covers, only having kicked his shoes before getting into the nest of fabric- at least he was comfortable. He planned to ignore them, hopefully they’d assume him asleep. He drew the curtains around the sides of the bed with a flick of his wand, and took a deep breath. After a few seconds of cringing up- he heard their voices approaching. He pulled his hood up even further and pulled his blankets over him, snuggling up until he was completely immersed, hidden away.

"-mbridge seems like a total tightwad, Yeah?" Weasley said as the door swung open. He felt his body tense up a little as their presences became more clear. 

"Yeah. She was at my hearing when they were threatening to expel me. She was against me, even claimed Dumbledore was accusing the ministry of sending the Dementors after us. She's adding fuel to the fire." Potter, from what Draco could tell, shuffled to his bed. Which was, of course, _right next to his_. Fan-fucking-tastic, that’s the only way he could describe it. 

"What're we going to do? The ministry is all over this and we'll probably have other… problems. I just don’t like how this is going." Weasley sat down at his bed.

They fell silent. "We can only wait to see how She is during class. It can't be but so bad, right?" Potter then said. Draco could feel pins and needles and that uncomfortable feeling you get when someone is staring. In the brief moment of silence, they probably noticed his existence. "Who's he?" He suddenly asked. Draco stayed still, breathing as slowly as he could manage considering his anxieties, and didn’t dare to more a muscle..

"I dunno, he was at the feast though, wouldn’t talk to anyone. Probably a transfer, if I had to guess.” He stayed still, hoping they’d just eventually ignore him. “Poor sap’s already out, I kinda feel bad.”

"Well, we'll have to introduce ourselves tomorrow then, when we can." Potter said quietly "Never seen that trunk before- looks nice, but he can’t be a first year right? They’d never shove a first year in a fifth year dorm." He quietly chuckled. “Though, I wonder why they changed the dorm assignments around.”

“Lotta magic families didn’t know what else to do, prolly pulled their kids for the term cause of… Dumbledore, and the situation.” Weasley sighed. “They probably redid the whole list just to fix the… holes and transfers.”

“Well either way, maybe he’ll be a little more… welcoming than the others had been.” Potter echoed Weasley’s sigh. “Tomorrow during breakfast, we should find him. I’d like to at least _know_ the elusive new dormmate.”

 _‘Like Hell.’_ Draco scoffed in his mind. _‘I’d rather drop out of school than let you get involved in this bullshit. Moreso than you already are.’_ He shifted just a little, but kept up the pretense that he was out like a light. _‘I’ll be gone before you ever realise shit, stupid halfblood.’_

They talked more, but softly, assuming that Draco was asleep. He couldn’t really figure out what they were saying, but it’s not like he really cared what they were talking about anyways. He was already annoyed and on edge as it was, and he was trapped. None of this was permanent, he’d be back in Slytherin before the end of the month- but that didn’t mean it wasn’t complicated, and confusing- and painful. He didn’t like this, not one bit, and he couldn’t wait for it all to be over, the fact that he could count on it all being a nightmare, was the only thing keeping him sane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waaaa  
> Another chapter done! I’m hoping to update every Saturday night, lovelies :) 
> 
> Please tell me how you guys feel about the writing and chapters so far! I adore feedback 😳😊


	3. Absolutely NOT According to Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is really making an effort to have things work out in his favour, but a certain High Inquisitor makes that downright impossible. 
> 
> Now there’s a very specific person that knows- and a whole lot more coming- and Draco begins to feel the effects of staying isolated in Gryffindor for so long.
> 
> Dinner plans got a whole lot more complicated.

The plan was very simple, when he laid it all out. It was almost _too_ simple, but that was the brilliance behind it. Hood? Up. Social life? On hold. All he had to do was not do _anything_. Stay quiet, unassuming, and just ride through the next few days as if nothing was wrong. Then, his father would come, solve the rehousing issue, and he’d play it off to the Slytherins as if he’d been out for the first few weeks on unforeseen business, or something of the sort.

It was a little finicky, if anything, but if everything went according to plan, it would be as if nothing happened at all.

When Draco woke up the first day of classes, it was already well into the morning. Thankfully, he was the only one in the room by the time he had woken up, everyone else had already left for breakfast or whatever it is Gryffindors get up to in the morning. Just according to his plan, of course. First one to sleep, last one to wake.

He eventually pulled himself from the soft red sheets and tried to fix his appearance, since he ended up sleeping in the clothes from the previous night. He didn’t bother changing his uniform, though, since he’d only worn the thing for a couple hours the previous day- he only attempted to comb his hair out and put some cologne on, shaking out his robe of creases before putting it back on.

After staring into the mirror for a couple minutes, adjusting his stupid red tie until it looked _just_ right, he pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and opened the door to the dorm, using the small golden key he had to lock it behind him. He sulked down the stairs with his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, reaching the common room which was filled with an exuberant air. It was only the first morning of the term and the entire Gryffindor common was already full of loud, annoyingly bright students chattering away with themselves.

He did not, in any way, fit in with the lot. Not physically, nor mentally. _Not like he wanted to, of course._ As he descended the stairs onto the main floor, he could feel their attention quickly getting drawn to him. It was obvious that he wasn’t meant to be there. They all seemed to look away when he got too close, like they knew. 

_‘Stay calm, only a couple of days.’_ Draco reminded himself, hearing their low whispers as he finally made his way into the hall and through the painting. _‘Their opinions don’t matter. Don’t let them phase you, Malfoy.’_ He left the common room without a second thought. This would be difficult, but not impossible.

Draco’s first class was Astronomy, something he found awfully odd to have in the morning, as opposed to during the night. It was a mindless endeavor for him, either way. Who cared about Jupiter’s moons? He knew enough about astrology to keep himself occupied in the hour he was supposed to be trapped in the tower, along with a whole class of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs- a class he shouldn’t be in.

He sauntered into the classroom, sticking close to the walls in hopes no one would notice him. Sitting in the very back of the room, he was able to successfully fly under the radar. Professor Sinistra hadn’t bothered to call him out or acknowledge him, which made it all the better in his opinion. He didn’t share the class with anyone he knew either, which relieved some stress.

All he had to do was have every other class the exact same way, and rinse and repeat until his father came.

After the break between his first and second class, which he spent grabbing his missed breakfast, it was double potions. He didn’t like- nor dislike- potions, had somewhat of a knack for it, if he was so bold to say… but he wasn’t sure how Professor Snape would react. He was certain that the teachers were notified of the house change, especially the heads of houses, but whether his wishes to remain under the radar had been expressed wasn’t clear.

He, and the other students, piled into the potions room and picked seats around the large tables in the room. There were only so many options, given he was going to be forced to sit next to someone either way, but as soon as Potter entered the room with his ridiculous friends, he picked his seat next to a random girl he’d never seen before without an ounce of hesitation. 

The last thing he wanted in class was to be near that lot, or anyone he remotely knew.

Professor Snape, surprisingly, didn’t bat an eye towards his table the entire time. It might’ve been because _Weasley_ was making a fool of himself the entire period which drew the Professor's attention away from the rest of the class, but he wasn’t going to complain. It was all turning in favour of his plan, after all.

Lunch was ignored, as Draco didn’t want to hang around the Gryffindor table during the busy hours, and he found himself wandering the library hoping to stumble across a good aisle to take a breather in. He knew that the situation would be annoyingly difficult, but the stress that elapsed around his chest made it hard to think at times. The challenge lied in staying afloat, in keeping himself hidden. He couldn’t fathom what would happen to his mental outlook if they _found out_. He couldn’t imagine the shame and embarrassment of being found out now. He had briefly considered just owning up to it during the weeks he had before the term started, but as soon as he was surrounded by _real_ people? He couldn’t handle the stress of thinking about it, much less the stress of considering the situation itself.

_‘You’ve already sent the letter to your father.’_ He reminded himself. _‘It’ll be over soon, there’s no point in freaking out.’_ He took a deep breath, feeling the constriction around his lungs. He hated every second of it. _‘Mother is doing everything she can, McGonagall understands and is accommodating. Your situation could be worse, and it isn’t. Stay calm.’_

The breather allowed him to sit down and study for a little, focusing on his next class- which he was _not_ enthusiastic about. When lunch ended, his schedule directed him towards the east wing. Defence against the dark arts. He wasn’t exactly a huge fan of the class to begin with, but the new Professor, Umbridge, did not help that at all.

Potter, Weasley, and Granger were in this class, along with Pansy, Crabbe, and Blaise. He couldn’t imagine risking anything around that many people and resorted to the furthest seat he could find, sinking into the backside of the chair to avoid any eye contact with the professor or the students. 

She began with an introduction and a brief overview of the O.W.L.s, then handed out some textbooks down the row. Her voice was comparable to shattered glass, and her speech made him cringe up. Every little word had to be punctuated in a way that made Draco’s head feel like it was about to split.

When the books were finally passed down his row, he felt a migraine begin to come along. “Dark Arts Defence: Basics for Beginners” made him want to vomit, he wasn’t an avid defence buff- but he also wasn’t a child. She allowed the class to scan to textbook briefly as she spoke, and Draco could feel himself losing the capacity to read with every line he saw. It was written in such basic, painfully theoretical terms- it felt like it was written for a _muggle_.

The only good thing to come from that period is that Umbridge hadn’t questioned him or brought any attention to him. With the way she was acting, he was expecting something horrible to come from the class, but besides the terrible ‘Ministry-Approved’ learning, at least she hadn’t done anything to _him_ personally. She was mostly focused on Potter- who was acting like an idiot. Nothing new in that regard, insisting he was right, and getting the boot-end of the stick for it. He didn’t care too much to really pay attention once they got to arguing.

With the end of that class, he was done for the day. One day down, only a couple more. _Only a couple more to go. All according to plan._

He forced himself to sit down for dinner at the end of the Gryffindor table that evening, where he was met with the low whispers of the other students who sat around him. He found it easier to ignore the whispers when he was passing the halls, or moving through the commons- but sitting there with really no where to go or move to forced him to listen.

**_“Who is that? I’ve never seen them before…”_** He could pick out individual voices in the loud crowd, all trying to figure out just who he was. **_“I mean, look at them, what a mystery! I’ve only seen them at dinner so far.”_**

**_“It can’t be a first year though, right? They’re way too tall for that. Eli said they’re a transfer, a lonely one too.”_** He picked at his food, listening to them. Even when he was low-key, it seemed to draw _some_ sort of attention. Something that wasn’t according to his plan, unfortunately.

**_“I’m pretty sure I saw them in my potions class. They’re a fifth year. Never seen or heard them speak though, they always stick to the back of the crowd.”_** The group seemed to hum and whisper to themselves. **_“Maybe we should talk to them! Maybe they need a friend-“_** He glanced over to the group who were gossiping, and despite them not being able to see his face, they knew he was looking their way, and they went quiet- switching to a new subject. _‘Friend? What a load of shit.’_

With no reason to stay at the godforsaken table any longer than need be, he quickly left the feast as soon as he was done with the plate he had served himself, bounding up the stairs of the tower. He didn’t like it when they whispered, it made him think even more about the situation; and the fact that others could see it. It made him feel less like he was _getting away with it._

He was, of course, the first one in the dorm. When he had hurried through the commons, only a few people were around- and the only one to acknowledge him was that stupid prefect who was keeping tabs on him. Fawley was always around, somehow. She was weird. As soon as the door to the dorm was secured the hood which had been resting on his head all day fell off, and he quickly changed into something rather than his dreaded school uniform. Falling into the obnoxiously comfortable bed, he pulled the covers over his head, letting the curtains close around the bed.

With no word from his father, he could tell every day would get progressively more exhausting. All he could hope for was the eventual resolution- but a fleeting idea struck him- _what if his father didn’t come?_ He could feel his chest twinge up with more anxiety at the mere thought. He was a busy man, after all. But- _no._ He couldn’t think like that. _‘Stay positive.’_

He kept repeating that simple two-letter phrase to himself under the sheets and bedding until he drifted into unconscious, well before any of his stupid roommates had the opportunity to obstruct his thoughts.

The week continued along a very similar pattern, and the teachers with every other course he was taking seemed to have a similar reaction to Monday’s events. A quiet hooded kid in the back of the classroom as hardly their largest concern. Every night, he’d return before any other roommate, and was always asleep first, always awake last. He got used to skipping breakfasts, and often stopped by for midday brunch when few students were around, and he had free time to spare. When he pretended to be asleep in those nerve-wracking nights, he could overhear the conversations the other 4 would have. 

Sometimes it was little things like the concept of ‘OWLS’ or stupid family junk. Other times, if was about Umbridge, or even rarely, about the Dark Lord. Though, they seemed afraid to talk about anything _too_ crazy in front of him, seeing as they didn’t even know _who_ he was.

As the days turned into weeks, Draco heard no reply from his Father. His mother only insisted he was still at work and hadn’t received his letters yet- but that just made him even more anxious. _Just how long would he be stuck in this ridiculous cycle?_ The new ‘high-inquisitor’ didn’t make the cycle any better, either. In only a matter of _weeks_ , Professor Umbridge had somehow secured that absurd title. Before he could even blink, they were posting new rules in the main hall which prohibited _this_ or _that_ or whatever Umbridge damn well pleased. He appreciated order just as much as the next: but her execution of just about _any_ educational decree made even the most uptight Ravenclaw annoyed to some degree.

In some cases, this played in his favour. Teachers were too focused on the new High Inquisitor to question him, students just the same… but being surrounded by the idiots in Gryffindor was a downside, because every time the ministry posted a new ‘Inquisitorial Degree’ Weasley had something to say about it. The past few nights alone had just been Weasley complaining to the others in the dorm about _having to tie his tie right_ or _tucking his shirt into his slacks._ As if _that_ were something to really be upset over.

Draco didn’t know how much more of this he could possibly take. If he had to hear _one more announcement_ about a new prohibited action or rule or the complaints that followed, he was going to throw himself off the astronomy tower. He was going through a hell of a lot more than they were- and _he_ wasn’t complaining, was he? Not out loud, at least. He had _some_ decency.

Even with all the changes that came with the ministry actions, Draco’s plan was still well underway. He was easily slipping under the radar of the entire school, and it was getting easier on his anxiety as he kept going. _(Which was a little disheartening, he had to admit. That he was getting used to the situation, but he had to accept that, at some point)_ He wasn’t much of a topic of conversation anymore, though, which took a lot of pressure off him.

That was, of course, going to change in the 3rd week of the term.

It had been roughly a week since Umbridge was named ‘High Inquisitor’. He slipped into the defence lecture hall with the same amount of unassuming quietness as usual and settled into his seat. Umbridge assigned the class a chapter to read and take notes over, as she had done the past few classes, and walked around the room to monitor them as they studied. Her eyes were like daggers, Draco had to admit. He could feel her piercing down on him every now and again. It only seemed to be even more fatal, now that she had some power.

Despite the discomfort that came along with her dreaded lessons, Draco did as he was instructed and attempted to read the passage she had assigned, eyes scanning over the same five lines about twenty times before he finally snapped out of it and continued reading, only to repeat the process. He could feel his brain slipping in and out of consciousness, bored to a painful degree. As he read the line talking about counter-jinxes, an annoyingly high-pitched sound came from in front of him.

He looked up, face still mostly covered, and locked eyes with the Professor. “Now there’s no reason to be wearing a hood inside, is there?” She asked coyly, her voice making Draco’s thought process blur from just how exasperating it was. “It’s quite disrespectful, to hide yourself away like that, young man.”

Draco dipped his head low, to appear more apologetic _(despite not caring, at all._ ) and then looked back up to her. “I apologise, Professor, but there aren’t any rules against wearing hoods inside. It’s within code.” He murmured just loud enough for her to hear. He meant it with the utmost respect- seeing as he didn’t want to get on her bad side, but almost immediately after the sentence left his mouth, he regretted it.

She bit her lip and took a deep, dramatic breath, as if stopping herself from going off on him in the middle of class. “We’ll see about that, shall we?” She concluded with a cold exhale, turning on her heel. Her response caught the attention of the class, and he sank into his seat even more at the feeling of being stared at. The whispers which circulated the room only made it worse. He made a massive mistake, and _everyone_ knew that now.

When the class finished, quite a few people began to walk towards Draco- and he didn’t want that. Umbridge _acknowledging_ his existence made his peers aware of him too, more so than before. He was pretty sure most of the people in the class assumed he wasn’t capable of speech until that very lesson- and now they were going to try and speak to him. He gathered up his books quickly left the room, ignoring anyone who tried to initiate conversation, and rushed down the halls in a hurriedly _fast_ manner.

He didn’t want to be found out- he didn’t think he’d be three weeks on this bullshit.

He rushed down the halls and took every turn he possibly could, fearing someone might’ve followed him, and eventually fed into the northern courtyard. He held his hood tightly and glanced around, the hall he had stopped in had a few passing people, but no one he knew. ‘ _Thank god.’_ He thought, shoulders slumping a little.

“Hey! You!” A voice suddenly intruded, making Draco’s entire body tense up. _‘Here we go.’_ He knew that voice better than he wished he had. _Harry Potter._ He turned around, hood still pulled over his face, and watched as Potter marched across the courtyard towards him. 

“You’re my roommate, right? The one who’s asleep before 8 and always sleeps in.” He mustered smile as he stopped a few feet in front of Draco. “My name is Harry Potter, we’ve never formally met.” He stuck his hand out, expecting to elicit some sort of response.

Draco hesitated and then turned away slightly, avoiding as much eye contact as he could. “I knew that already.” He said in a low murmur; his voice too small to recognise. “We’ve been roommates for almost 3 weeks now.” As he spoke, he found himself beginning to back up, trying to get back into the open-aired hallway that connected the courtyard to the school. He was _very_ afraid, of both the situation- and what he’d just done. Umbridge could seriously derail _everything_.

Potter lowered his hand in slight disappointment, clearing his throat. “You seem the quiet type, so I was surprised when you back-talked the ‘High Inquisitor’ like that.” He laughed lightly, a little dry. “It’s too bad though, she’ll probably have an inquisitorial decree up before the end of the day banning hoods and all that, all our efforts are for naught, with that… _Lady_.” He pursed his lips. Draco wouldn’t have used the word ‘Lady’ to describe the dictator.

Draco stayed dead silent and kept his focus on the ground. This was _not_ , in _any way_ going according to plan. It wasn’t even _near_ the plan. What was he going to do? If he couldn’t conceal his identity… He’d be doomed. He couldn’t _fathom_ it.

“Are you alright?” Potter interrupted his thoughts before they could divulge into anxieties and Draco shook his head. He opened his mouth to respond- before a loud voice cut him off. It was the magical announcement system Umbridge had installed.

**_“All students are now required to remove any and all head accessories from their uniform immediately. Any hats, clips, pins, or worn cloak hoods in use during school hours inside the walls will be subject to removal and befitting punishment. Effective immediately.”_ **

Potter sighed. “Never mind.” He scratched his head. “You might want to go back to the dorms. She won’t be able to punish you there. If you stay out here, she’ll just magic your hood from existence.”

Draco looked around, concern filling his chest. This would happen eventually. He would eventually be put in a situation where he’d slowly but surely be forced to out himself, since his father had been MIA for the foreseen future… But for that damn Umbridge to put into effect some dumb rule, and for it to start so suddenly. He took a deep breath. This was technically _his_ fault.

Before he could even take a step however, He heard a chilling call which sent his stomach into a deep plunge.

“You there! The hooded one next to Mr Potter!” They _both_ knew who called out, before they even had time to pinpoint the location of the voice. Why couldn’t things go _any_ better?

They both turned around, Professor Umbridge approaching them quickly with the loud ‘click’ of her heels. She smiled with a great satisfaction, practically leering down on them with a _look_ in her eyes. “Didn’t you hear?” She crossed her arms, pink cardigan making a starchy sound as she did so. “Hoods are not to be worn during the school hours within these walls.” She reached out to pull down his hood and he flinched, backing up again, taking a sharp inhale.

Potter held out his arm, as if it would do anything to stop the damn woman, but she just pulled her wand from her sleeve. She put some distance between the two and let out a lengthy sigh. “This is your only warning; do you hear me? Next time something like this happens, you’ll be free to join Mr Potter in detention.” She waved the wand in a motion towards Draco, and he could feel the fabric slip against the top of his head. As he felt the hood drop, his heart and stomach plummeted lower than he’d ever thought possible.

With utter defeat and horror in his eyes as the hood fell to reveal his identity, the ex-Slytherin spun on his heel and ran as fast as he could from the courtyard, ignoring the calls that Potter obnoxiously yelled out. He could feel his chest constricting and his blood rising- his face getting red from embarrassment. Of course, he was going to run. Malfoys didn’t run- but this was the _one_ exception to that rule his father had nearly drilled into him as a child.

Running as fast as he could, given how heavy his heart felt, he bolted through as many halls and passages as he could. He needed to find a cove, or a cupboard, or _somewhere_ to hide his shame in. The halls were relatively empty, given it was almost time for dinner, but he had a feeling Potter would try to follow him, and he most certainly did not want _that_. He couldn’t fathom the ridicule, the _horror_ of facing anyone- _especially Potter_! After about a billionth turn, he stopped- finding a small, out of the way dead end to stuff himself in.

He slipped behind one of the pillars in the wall, facing the windows, and hugged his knees up to his chest. The hood on his cloak had been permanently forced down with Umbridge’s magic, so he pulled the entire cloak up to cover himself, balling up into a pile of fabric. _‘There’s a chance Potter didn’t even see. You could still salvage this.’_ He tried to rationalise the situation, but he _knew_ that Potter knew, what with him obnoxiously calling out _‘Malfoy!_ ’ If Potter knew, that meant anyone could have seen it. 

_‘It was going to happen eventually, given how late your father is.’_ He then thought, three weeks of hiding was impressive in it of itself, but it couldn’t have lasted forever. _‘The secret was bound to get out at some point, given the father situation.’_ He hugged his legs tighter, and took deep breaths. As he did, he could hear the footsteps of another slowly approaching the dead-end. _‘Please for the love of everything good and right in this world, do not be Potter.’_ He pleaded from under the cloak,

The footsteps stopped, and after a pause of heavy breathing, they cleared their throat. Whomever it was, had been running after him. “Malfoy..?” He asked quietly, the voice was about as recognisable and clear as the scar on his forehead.

_‘Oh, the humility.’_ He felt his soul being crushed in a thousand different ways, deflating from under the cloak. “If you need a minute to ridicule me, I’d suggest getting it out of the way now, I’m not built for this right now, Potter.” He muttered spitefully.

Harry sat down in the dead-end, back against the wall, facing towards Draco. “I’m more confused, than anything.” He mumbled, voice undreadable. “I mean, for starters- why are you in… Gryffindor? Why are you in our dorm? Has this been… all term? What happened-” 

Draco lifted his head slightly, peeking out from his ball of shame, which caused Potter to stop mid-sentence. He didn’t make eye contact. “There’s a clause, some dumb… thing that they wrote in the rules… that allows the headmaster and the house heads to… force a rehousing for a student, ‘should they see fit.’” His words were slow, nearly forced, mocking near the end. “When that damned hat was told to rehouse me into my second best-fitting house.” Draco paused, glancing over at Potter to read his expression, which was almost surprised- but not in any way trying to make fun of him. “Naturally, it decided to _fuck me over_ instead.”

There was a momentary silence after Draco explained his situation, then Potter tilted his head, still looking confused. “Is it permanent? Your rehousing, I mean.”

“Technically, yes.” He shuffled a little, poking out of his ball of cloak. “It’s permanent unless another rehousing takes place, which can only be instated by the headmaster- or the ministry.” He raised his head more, finally making proper eye-contact, his expression was one of pure, unfiltered shame and exhaustion. “I am, on every possible level, a Gryffindor as of a couple weeks ago. On paper, at least. Not anywhere else, obviously. Go ahead and laugh, get it all out of your system now.” He waved his hand into the air absentmindedly and dismissed Potter, waiting for a burst of amusement.

He anticipated some sort of mockery- or at least a chuckle, but Potter’s face remained serious, concerned even to some degree. “So… why hasn’t your father come to make it all better yet? Seems only yesterday he’d drop everything just to help you with your… well, _everything_.” 

He frowned and looked down again, sighing. “He’s been away on business for the ministry. I don’t think he’s received my owls yet. He’s been away for nearly a month now, without contact.” He finally let go of his legs, kicking them out, leaning back against the pillar exasperatedly. His hair fell into his face a little, face red, and a little dishevelled _(from the fact that he hadn’t really needed to upkeep his usual slicked back look when he was hiding all the time.)_

They sat in silence for a moment, Draco adjusting his stupid tie and patting out his stupid maroon robes while Potter processed the information. There weren’t any other students passing by the hall they were sitting in, so Draco let himself go just a little. He was nearly giving up, at this point- what with Umbridge and the whole debacle in it of itself. Three weeks of this had taken a large toll on him.

“What are you going to do now?” Potter suddenly asked, breaking his odd look of deep concentration. “Looks like hiding can only get you so far, three weeks to be precise.” His eyes were fixated on Draco’s lion crest and Gryffindor adornments, and Draco shrunk up again. He didn’t like being seen, by anyone. _Especially_ this prat.

“Does it concern you?” He quipped back harshly.

“Actually, yes it does.” Potter replied in his obnoxious voice almost instantly. “Like it or not but this whole… thing.” He paused. “It isn’t just your problem now.” He crossed his arms. “This affects everyone in Gryffindor and Slytherin. What about your friends? Your old roommates? _Your current roommates?_ You could seriously start some problems if you don’t handle this right, I mean hiding is one thing, but… you’re going to cause some turmoil.” 

_‘Going off and deciding things for yourself? What a prick.’_ Draco frowned, but before he opened his mouth to retaliate, he thought about it. _‘He did make a point. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Zabini…’_ He looked down at the ground. _‘Potter too, and Weasley… I guess.’_ The fact that they _were_ his roommates did mean something. He hadn’t said a word to his friends, which was bad. He’d expected to come back sooner, and just apologise for all the secrets, things he couldn’t control—but now things were a _lot_ more complicated.

“As much as I hate to admit it,” He looked up after a moment. “you’re… right. This is a bit bigger than just me, now. Especially given how long it’s been.” 

As soon as the words left his lips, a smug smile spread across Potter’s face which made Draco extremely pissed _(Even if he didn’t show it_.) “So, even the all-powerful **_Draco Malfoy_** can see reason?” He let out a stupid laugh which echoed in the hall, somewhere between demeaning, and nearly playful.

The utter look of ridiculousness on Potter’s face made Draco feel a slight bit better, despite the fact that he was being a prat, so he played along. “Only when you actually say something that makes any sense.” He mocked.

Potter seemed to find it amusing as he laughed a little harder. “Seriously though,” He looked over to Draco, a smile still residing. “You just gonna sit behind this pillar until the situation blows over? Your marks are going to drop so hard.” 

Draco shook his head, peering from behind the column. “It was bound to happen eventually, with my father showing no signs of return. I guess I… should just go back up to the dorms, tell the rest of the lot what happened and do some homework. Try and… bide through time and just… take it, I guess.”

“You’re seriously going to skip dinner?” The Gryffindor asked, leaning forward. “Don’t you skip breakfast too? You’re always in bed when we leave. Do you…even eat?”

Draco nodded. “I do eat, thank you very much. It’s just going into the main hall right now would be a big surprise, and I don’t think I’ve got the capacity to sit around people who _already_ whisper about me. They’ve already started rumours, so if I just _waltzed_ in right now, I don’t think I’d be very well received. I’d rather just stay in the dorm, get some reading done.” He began to stand up, brushing his slacks off. “Part of me wants to just get it out of the way so I can go on with life, since this isn’t going away- but the other part of me can feel my pride and soul being crushed- and would rather preserve whatever’s left.”

Potter stood up too, patting his uniform down. “I think you should go have dinner and get it out of the way.” He said simply. “There are no other real options, since Professor Umbridge banned just about everything. Not only that, but your ‘pride’ or whatever is going to get crushed anyways. You still have tomorrow, and the day after that… and the day after that.” He listed. “You get the idea, might as well take it with some dignity and get through it sooner, rather than later.”

Draco sighed. “Unfortunately, you make a good case once again Potter.” He tucked the cloak under his arm and glanced back down the hall. Empty, thank Merlin for that.

They stood in silence for a moment, as if deliberating. “You said ‘if things were different’ back on the train, didn’t you?” Potter finally added after a long pause.

“I- yes, I suppose I did.” He murmured. He wasn’t sure why he’d said that, now that he was thinking back on the conversation- but he _did_ say it, funnily enough. It was more of an in-the-moment comment, than anything.

Green eyes seemed to pierce him, making him purse his lips awkwardly. “Don’t you think this situation is different enough?” He then asked, which made Draco feel… _weird._ What was he insinuating?

“What exactly do you mean by tha—”

“Harry!” A voice interrupted, and Draco quickly shut up. Whatever he was asking, and whatever Potter was going to respond with, was cut off by the sound of bounding footsteps made it clear that Granger and Weasley had just found their whereabouts. The three of them always came together, he’d nearly forgotten.

“We got concerned when you ran out of defence that fast… To think would’ve gone all the way to the west corridors!” Weasley said between heavy breaths. “We looked _nearly_ everywhere for you!”

“Hang on—is that _Malfoy_?” Granger then asked, in her usual bossy tone. He tensed up, feeling the prickling feeling on his back as he tried to come up with any sort of response. “What’s he done?” She asked accusingly. They hadn’t quite seen his _uniform_ yet.

Harry pushed a small smile, shaking his head. “Nothing, Me and Draco were just talking, that’s all.” _‘Did he seriously just call me Draco? Ugh.’_ He placed a gentle hand on Draco’s shoulder, to which Draco didn’t retaliate despite his brief shock. He glanced over to Potter, who shot him a look of _‘trust me’_ and he—unfortunately—did in that moment. _(He was cornered, so there wasn’t much else he could do.)_

“Yes.” He responded after a couple seconds, Potter looking slightly surprised. “We were just talking. There’s no reason start pointing fingers, Granger.” He refrained from any name-calling, looking over his shoulder to see the two of them standing rather defensively.

They, still on guard, approached closer. “Dinner’s already started, but I know Ginny saved us a section.” Weasley said. “Let’s go, Harry. Let him walk himself back to wherever he’d been hiding all term.” Draco waited for Potter to pass by, but he instead just pat Draco’s shoulder again.

“You think he could tag along?” He asked. Draco expressed surprise, going dead silent as Granger and Weasley were taken aback by the inquiry. He bit his lip. _‘I guess you’re just making all the decisions now, asshole.’_ He thought, but maybe the push would help him get over this bullshit until his father _did_ come back. If it was anyone _but_ Potter, he probably would have been on board, but it _was_ Potter, and he was just dead silent.

Hermione laughed after a second of processing. “Harry… That’s not how that works at all, we all know that- _he_ has a seat with Slytherin.” Her tone was rude, bossy, her face a little twisted up as she shot him a look. If he wasn’t in a bad position, he would’ve snapped back.

Potter nudged him a little, causing his attention to pull back from the mudblood. “I’d rather you eat.” He pushed. “Until your father fixes this all- it would be really hard to just… keep doing what you had been doing this whole time, especially with the… hood situation.”

He really, genuinely, honestly thought about it, which scared him- this whole situation had put him in some weird kind of high. That had to be it. “Dinner.” He nearly muttered, lost in about a _thousand_ different, very conflicting thoughts. _‘To hell with it, it can’t do but so much more harm.’_ “If your friends behave.” He eyed Potter, who smirked his signature _(albeit a little more jaded)_ smirk. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Harry then walked past Draco slowly, returning to the sides of his godawful friends, and the Slytherin followed his movements and turned around to face the three. “We’re on truce until the fated day your father returns.” He virtually proclaimed. “So- no fighting, right?”

Draco pursed his lips and sighed. _‘Temporary. This is all temporary. Think of it like a cursed vacation from Slytherin. A cursed, very bad, downright awful torture vacation, with Potter and his stupid friends._ ’ He then slowly nodded. “No fighting, as if I could in this state.”

At that point nearly exactly, it seemed to click and register for the other two, poor slow idiots, that he was wearing a red and gold tie and had a lion plastered to the front of his vest. Weasley had an expression most akin to _fear_. Or maybe disgust? But Granger’s expression had gone from her fed-up, bossy disposition to a mix of curiosity, and anger.

“It’s a long story, come on.” Potter nearly dismissed the situation to his friends, gesturing for the four to start heading down to the mess hall. “Let’s just go find some seats, grab some food- and things’ll make… more sense than they do right now.” 

“Harry- hold _on_ \- you can’t just drop something like _that!_ And- and then just walk away!” Weasley caught up to him quickly. “That’s _Draco Malfoy._ You know, _that_ Malfoy?!”

“We’ve met, yeah.”

Granger followed, leaving Draco to tail behind the three at a few meters. He slipped his robes back on and tried to pull the hood up before remembering that Umbridge had royally screwed him over. “ _Harry-_ if you’re seeing what I’m seeing—which I _know_ you are—then you _must_ know that this is-” Draco was surprised to hear the mudblood at a loss for words. She usually had plenty to pass around. “What are we doing?!”

Harry just kept assuring them that everything was fine, and everything was going to calm down- and that there was a perfectly reasonable and understandable explanation to both why Draco was in Gryffindor robes, and why he was being dragged along by the three of them. They kept bickering, as Gryffindors tended to do, and eventually arrived at the large doors.

They were late, the sound of muffled school commotion just on the other side of the wooden barrier, and Draco stopped dead in his tracks as Granger and Weasley slipped in. Potter noticed him. There was a weight in his feet, as if he’d been jinxed.

“I don’t think I can do this.” He admitted, although he really wished he wasn’t being honest with Potter. “I don’t fit in with you lot- I should just go to the dorm-”

“You need to eat.” He interrupted. “This isn’t permanent, but you’re going to screw up a lot of stuff if you keep hiding away and refusing to—well, do anything. Things are going to work out sooner or later but running away is going to make it so much harder, especially when things _do_ get better.”

Draco shot him a look. “You don’t get to decide things for me, _Potter_.” He scoffed. “Do you _really_ think I want to be _surrounded_ by all your stupid friends?!” His voice raises for a second, but he stops and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t have room to get into any fights.

“I _think_ you’re in a hard situation, and as difficult as it may be for you to believe, _Malfoy_ , I’m just trying to make things less shitty for you when things DO get better! Are you seriously going to screw up your schedule over a _temporary_ house change?” He let out an exasperated sigh. “-and no one should skip on meals, especially over something as… brief as this… bullshit!”

Draco went quiet, he was both angry- but knew Potter was making some sense. “You aren’t some messiah, Potter! You don’t have to fix everyone, and everything!” His tone got defensive. “If I want to lock myself up and fly under until everything’s fixed- that’s MY choice to make!”

Potter was taken aback for a second, green eyes fixated on him. After a moment of silence, his mouth slightly parted as if he were about to say something at any moment. “I’m- I’m just trying to make things a little less _shitty_ for everyone! Not just you.” He started. “-but if you _really_ don’t want to go in there, I’m not going to make you.”

His voice quieted down, and he looked down at the ground. Draco had never really seen him like this before, he’d been tired and defeated looking _all_ term, but the way his voice seemed to die off took the Slytherin by surprise.

He looked like he was going to say something else, but he stayed silent. The air was filled with the muffled chatter of the lively dinner, and Draco clasped his hands and let out another incredulous sigh.

“I just don’t want to be _seen_.” He finally said.

He looked up at him. “You’re going to be seen either way.”

“I _know_ that, Potter! I just- You must understand this situation is… complicated and difficult and, suddenly everything is different. Now _you_ of all people want to _drag_ me into the middle of the mess hall with all _your_ Gryffindor friends! Umbridge just… turned my entire plan upside down, now the _one_ person that I’ve _never_ gotten along with wants to just… make all these decisions without—without thinking! This is too much for me!” His honesty was coming as a surprise to both. “I mean, yes. They will see me, no matter what, that’s just how it’s going to have to be—but not even an _hour_ after Umbridge did… what she did—”

“Draco-” He nearly murmured.

He shook his head. “Why do you even—why do you even _want_ to help?! We have _never_ gotten along, Potter. Why not just let me do my thing and leave me to my own devices?”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Draco didn’t know why he felt slightly bad about going off on him. He’d never felt bad about it before. It wasn’t that he felt bad about snapping at him- because he didn’t- but he did have some kind of bad feeling- some sort of remorse. Maybe it’s because Potter was trying, albeit poorly and forcefully, to do something… nice for once.

“Things are different.” He finally said. “That’s all. I just… thought maybe it was the opportunity, from the train.”

It was Draco’s turn to stay quiet. “They are different, I guess.” He stared down at the stone bricks under them. “It’s all too different, too quickly. For me at least.”

“I get that, but it is going to come. I just thought that maybe having someone to listen, and I know you don’t like our group—but _people_ who would be willing to listen… might make things easier, for as long as you’re there.”

Draco averted his eyes. “I’m not sure _friends_ are what I need, I have… resources.” He remembered McGonagall, and as much as he _hated_ to admit it, Eli. They _had_ been helping him, and the situation wasn’t… as bad as he thought it would be. He couldn’t wait to go back to Slytherin and fix things and explain just what happened- but…

He remembered what McGonagall had said, about making the temporary stay at Gryffindor a _“productive”_ one. About… burying hatchets.

He wasn’t sure it he was too keen on being nice to mud bloods, or the usual loud lot that he’d come to expect from the lion house—but, Potter meant well.

He wasn’t thinking very clearly, maybe it was on account of the ‘high’ he was on from the clause from being in the situation- but for once, idiot Potter was making sense.

He sighed again and shoved his hands in his slacks. “We’re at an impasse, Potter. I know you mean well- and to some odd degree I… agree with you.” He glanced through the crack in the large doors and saw all the kids, his anxiety rising. “Well, I don’t fully agree with you, but I know what you mean. You mean well. I just don’t think I’m really ready to be dragged around by you, but your offer for someone to… listen- well, after 3 weeks of complete isolation, that doesn’t sound bad.”

Potter sighed too. “I still wouldn’t really feel very good if you just… didn’t eat. I’m not for that kind of stuff.” He kicked the air absentmindedly. “-and _I’d_ listen, if you want. I know… what it’s like when no one listens. Just because things weren’t great before, doesn’t mean they always have to be that way.”

Draco looked down the halls, then back to Potter. “Well, I know myself well enough to know I can’t go in there. Not built for it.” He shrugged. “-but I’ll take steps, since you’re right. People will see me, it’s unavoidable.”

“Like what?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Like- I don’t know. _Talking_? Maybe I’ll, I don’t know… study in the commons, or something. I’ll eat during my off period, for breakfast when there’s less people. I don’t know what I’m going to do for dinner because _that_ ,” he pointed to the mess hall. “isn’t going to bode well for _anyone_.”

Potter sighed. “Okay, sure. Yeah, those sound like steps. I was worried you’d end up shutting yourself away for good and ruin everything.”

“Oh _please._ ” He shook his head. “I can’t let my grades slip. I didn’t plan on it either. I’m not going to ruin my educational career over some… stupid clause. It’s just hard.”

“Yeah yeah, I know… I get that. What about dinner? You need to eat.”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll… asked Fawley or McGonagall for help- explain the situation to them.” He sighed. “This is all too complicated.”

Potter thought for a second and then nodded. “I have an idea, since dinner won’t work.” He locked eyes with Draco. There was that _headache_ of a feeling growing in Draco’s mind, seeing the wheels turning in the Gryffindor’s mind. “I’m sorry for trying to pull you into the deep end, I understand now why… that probably wasn’t the best thing.”

Draco nodded, surprised by the apology—and how… _perceptive_ Potter was being. He wasn’t a complete idiot- it seemed, but at this point Draco wasn’t in a position of arguing. “It’s… okay. You didn’t really do anything- if you would have forced me in there, it would be a different story.”

Potter nodded, and stuck his head into the door, searching the hall. He turned back, the usual mischievous look Draco was used to seeing on his face slowly returning, in a small amount. “Go on up to the dorm, I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay?”

Draco didn’t argue, nodding slowly with squinted eyes. At this point, as long as he wasn’t in the mess hall, he could probably survive. He bound up the stairs as fast as he could, ignoring the confused looks from the paintings that had come to recognise him, and said a quick, out of breath “Ulises Ivar!” before the fat lady opened the painting with a begrudged look.

The commons were nearly empty, save for a few prefects- including Fawley. They didn’t pay him much mind, the 7thyears had that habit, but Fawley shot him a slightly confused look before getting up to talk to him.

“You’re back awfully early.” She commented coyly. “Without your… hood up?” She walked with him as he made his way through the main room of the tower, stopping only once he was a step up the staircase.

Draco held himself from shooting her a look and sighed. When he slowed to a stop, he finally had a moment to take a deep breath. “Didn’t you hear Umbridge’s new inquisitorial decree? No hoods, or head accessories are to be worn within the walls.” He voice was slightly mocking.

“Oh dear. That puts a damper on your plan.” She held herself from a chuckle at his mocking tone, but it was clear she was amused, but also concerned.

Draco huffed. “More than a ‘damper.’ The whole plan is out the window.” He kept himself relatively calm. “but it _is_ temporary, so it’s going to be fine. This is fine.” He was obviously not fine, but it _was_ temporary and there was no reason to break down over it but so much.

She nodded. “Surprisingly mature of you, Draco.” She teased a little. “Do you have a new plan, then?”

He shrugged. “I’m just going to keep going to class, act like everything’s fine. I’ll wait for my father, and I’ll keep functioning. It isn’t the end of the world, as much as I’d like to think so.”

“Well, that sounds like a fine plan. It’ll work out, I’m sure. You know I’m here if you need anything.” She smiled, and Draco _(who was just trying to process the day and everything that had happened thus far)_ pressed his lips into a small grin to signify he was _appreciative_ of her efforts. She _wasn’t_ a bad Gryffindor, after all, a rather nice pureblood 7th year, sensible and smart. He respected her.

“I’ll count on it, Eli.” He nodded, taking another step up the stairs, and she returned to her group of upperclassmen.

He let himself into the dorm room and let out a long, painful exhale. Long long day. A very long, very troubling day. He’d write an update to his mother later, since he didn’t have to hide in his bed bubble now, but in the moment, he needed to just _breathe._

The entire situation was impossibly confusing, and ridiculously complicated—but at the end of the day, all he knew now is that there was really no hiding. He’d already accepted that the rehousing was just something that had happened. He accepted that it was just a matter of waiting until his father came back from his incommunicado trip. Now he had to accept that everyone else knew this now, that he was in Gryffindor, and that he was _not_ in Slytherin.

He was going to be fine, he’d thrown his fit for the term- he wasn’t going to keep fighting something that was obviously not going to change, he wasn’t a 1st year. Dealing with his roommates was going to be somewhat of a challenge, he really didn’t want to speak to Weasley any more than he _had_ to—but Potter was being… sensible for once, and his offer wasn’t the _worst_ in the world. Only having McGonagall and Eli to talk to had gotten a little boring, and he could only write so many letters to his mother before it reached plain _sad_.

He laid on his stupidly comfortable bed and put his arm over his eyes, focusing on his breathing. _‘Everything is going to be fine. You’re better than this, Draco.’_ He kept trying to tell himself, and for the most part, it worked. He was surprisingly calm considering that _bitch_ had screwed up his entire plan.

He sat in silence for a long while, nearly forgetting Potter had planned something. That silence, and his subsequent forgetting of Potter’s plan, was interrupted by the sound of the door struggling to open. Dinner wasn’t supposed to end for another _hour_.

He sat up, eyeing the wooden frame, and slipped off his bed, cracking the door open.

“Hey.” Potter cracked an out of breath smile. “Thanks- I don’t have any free hands.” Draco let his eyes fall to Potter’s hands, two plates arranged with a wide selection of foods. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just made a balanced plate.”

“Wh-” He backed out of the way to make room for him to come in. “Potter- _what_?”

The Gryffindor quickly set the plates down on the table between his and Draco’s beds and sat down on the edge of his, falling into the cushions and blankets. “You would not _believe_ how hard it was to sneak two full plates of food up the _entire_ moving stairwell.” He said exasperatedly. “I nearly fell _thrice!_ ”

Draco watched the other with an unreadable expression. “Your plan was to sneak dinner up here?” He looked over to the plates. Meats, veggies mashes and gravy, a small plate balanced on top of the roll of bread with a little pastry on it.

Potter nodded. “It’ll be our own dinner, since the main hall is too many people.” He pulled a clean set of cutlery wrapped in a couple napkins from his pocket. “-and maybe I’m not done talking to you yet.”

Draco let out another very long, dragged out exhale. “Okay, fine.” He said in a manner close to defeat. “This works, for now.” He sat down across from Potter, who was now kicking his shoes off and throwing them into his trunk, hanging up his cloak, and taking a second to catch his own breath from the trek up to the dorms. “I don’t know how you lot do it every day.” He commented offhandedly.

“Do what?” He asked, green eyes peering back over to him as his lungs caught up.

“Climb those damned stairs! Every day!” He gestured back towards the commons. “In Slytherin you just go down maybe a flight, and then down a hall, take a left—then boom! You’re there!” He made gestures with his hands. “In Gryffindor—you have to climb up _Merlin_ knows how many flights, _hoping_ that the stairs are going to be nice and take you up the most direct path—and by the time you get to the painting you’ve nearly _forgotten_ the password! Not to mention the dorms are _another_ dozen flights!”

He let himself fall back into the cushions, and Potter laughed. “No one ever gets used to it.” He copied Draco, falling back into his own bed with a loud _‘fwump!’_ “So tell me, when’s your dad getting back?”

Draco, who was feeling just a little better and had nearly chosen to forget all the problems in the moment in order to complain, was brought back to reality.

“I have no idea. He’s been out of communication for nearly a month now.” His eyes traced the drapes above his bed. “It could be tomorrow, it could be next week… It could be just before winter break.” He dreaded the last option, but that was- in theory- the latest he could be stuck in Gryffindor. His father was _going_ to be back by winter break.

“Yikes.” Potter managed, sitting up. “Must be really frustrating, not knowing. I’m sorry.”

Draco half sat up, looking at him. “It is, very frustrating. Being shoved in here with you lot.”

The halfblood grabbed the plates and offered one to Draco, maybe as a social buffer, seeing as Draco had gotten a little snappy. “I can only imagine, we are rather stupid sometimes.”

He took the plate, still very warm, and laid a napkin on his lap before slowly poking into the food. “It could be worse, I guess.” He said offhandedly. “-and it will be fixed, so… I’m just riding it out.”

He nodded along, eating as he spoke. “So- how’s Gryffindor compare to Slytherin? The common rooms and that, I mean.” Draco could tell that he was trying to make conversation, so he sighed, relaxing a little into the bed.

“The people are…” He gave Potter a _look_ and he nodded. They’d been through that whole song and dance more than enough. “But the commons and the dorms themselves aren’t bad, once you’ve made the ridiculous journey.” He looked around the room, to the big windows reflecting out into the night sky, the warm fire in the middle of the room, the four-post beds with curtains and drapes which contained them into their own little bubbles, the rugs and the deep rich mahogany. “It’s a lot more… fresh than the Slytherin commons.” He wasn’t sure if there was a better word to describe it.

Potter looked around too. “It’s very homely, and calming.” He took a bite.

“The windows and the views are incredible, and the colours aren’t too bad, the dark wood and red looks good.” He kicked his feet into the rugs a little. “The beds-”

“The beds!” Potter cut him off. “These _beds_ have no right being this comfortable!” He hit the side of the mattress.

“Right?!” Draco nearly exclaimed in agreement. The beds in Slytherin were _lacklustre_ at best compared to these. Stiff, cold… you had to _make_ it comfortable with your own freaking devices! The Gryffindor beds were like warm, soft embraces. They were cushioned and layered and the amount of pillows and sheets provided made Draco explode. _(In the good way.)_ “Slytherin’s are like the beds in _Azkaban_ compared to these!”

Potter chortled, a surprisingly genuine smile on his face. He’d been so _exhausted_ all term- this was the first time he’d seen him back to his usual self. He went quiet for a second, looking away. _‘What am I doing?’_

Potter only continued to eat and speak, filling the silence. “Well at least it’s not all bad, the views here are incredible! Reminds me of the views when I’m flying for quidditch- and Hedwig _loves_ flying up here—” He paused. “You- you okay?”

Draco shook out of it, trying not to think to hard. “I’m fine- I just… went blank for a second. Quidditch, your bird- as you were saying?” He was trying very desperately to _not_ think about the fact that it was surprisingly easy to talk to him. It was probably just another effect of him being in solitude for nearly 4 weeks, and the whole _‘high’_ he was on from the rehousing itself.

Harry pursed his lips in concern but didn’t press him and continued to speak. They had a lot to say, surprisingly. Between the commons, and classes- the food and Umbridge—there was a scary amount of _non-aggressive_ topics for them to talk over. The hour seemed to fly by, and their dinners were finished. _(Harry neatly stacked them on top of his trunk to bring down to breakfast the next morning.)_

Before they knew it, the sounds of other students began to fill the corridor and stairs, meaning dinner was now over. Draco had, in their time, decided it was best to not start anything and follow McGonagall’s advice _(to the best of his ability)_ while he was in Gryffindor. He wasn’t here to make friends, but he also wasn’t there to keep enemies.

Longbottom and the other sap payed him no mind, they just gave him an odd look before minding their business. Weasley, however, swung the door open and gave Draco about the _nastiest_ look he could before pulling Potter out into the hall, so the three of them could talk. Draco really couldn’t care, he wasn’t going to start anything with Weasley—so whatever happened next was going to be _his_ fault, not Draco’s.

After a few minutes, and some muffled conversation, Weasley and Potter came back in- bidding goodbyes to Granger.

Weasley decided not to say a word to the Slytherin, and Potter gave him a slightly miffed shrug. He’d been right—this was affecting more than just him. He wasn’t sure of what to say so he kept quiet, the whole dorm falling to a quiet, awkward silence.

He wrote his mother a letter, sealing it with wax, writing her name on the front with extra care. It was filled with all the updates she’d need- but he kept the part about him and Potter talking out of it. He placed it on his bedside cabinet and buried himself into the sheets.

That was it. They knew. Everything was going to be a lot more complicated now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!! I’m so sorry for the late post for this chapter! I had to rewrite and completely tear down the original and add a bunch of new scenes which made it difficult!
> 
> My S/O broke up with me about a day after chapter 2 was posted as well, which made it really hard to write. I hope you all can understand why this one took so long.
> 
> Hopefully the next one will be out on schedule!
> 
> Next Chapter: Chapter Four - The Rise of an Army, the Fall of Draco Malfoy  
> (Stay tuned!)


	4. The Rise of an Army, The Fall of Draco Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his secret now revealed and one Harry Potter trying to weasel his way into Draco's life, things take a complicated, and frustrating turn. The notion of the DA becomes more apparent, and now Draco is in the middle of it all.   
> With every dinner, and every class, Draco finds himself getting weirdly closer to the menagerie of Gryffindors he once berated, and with every step nearer- his excuses become more and more indefinite.
> 
> This is all some temporary fever dream, after all, his one chance to do things a little differently without worrying about how his friends or peers would think. He could just chalk it all up to some stupid clause. Whatever choices he was making now? Were all because of that stupid book.

By the time Draco Malfoy had fallen asleep, dreamed some troubling dreams which he couldn’t quite remember, and woken up to the sound of the other dormmates leaving for breakfast—word had spread. Word had spread _very_ fast around the school, and when he poked his head out of the dorm, that fact was _very_ evident.

_“Oh god, I thought she was kidding when she told me last night in the dorm.”_ He heard someone utter as they passed his door, eyeing him for a little too long. _“To think they’d put a Slytherin in here… What the hell happened?”_ He shrunk back into room. Great. This was just fantastic.

Although, he supposed this was fair. He wasn’t exactly popular with the mud bloods and _stupid_ Gryffindors anyways.

He slipped his uniform on and tried to stay calm, folding up his clothes and reorganising his trunk before sliding his shoes on. It was going to be a very long day. He grabbed the letter he’d left on his nightstand and tucked it into his bag before catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

Good God.

He _looked_ like them—or rather, what he imagined he might look like if he was. Dishevelled, exhausted, his hair was a nightmare- fluffed up and unruly. He could usually just get away with putting it all under the hood- but this was unfortunately not the case anymore. He didn’t have his usual fanciful air of calm, collected, purity. He was a _mess._

The red and gold tie, plus the maroon robes, and the large lion crest on his chest really tied the manic look together, his satchel packed haphazardly and roughly slung across his chest. If his mother could see him now? Pansy or Blaise? He’d never hear the end of it.

He collected himself the best he could and ran a brush through his hair, trying to slick it back with some failure. Eventually, he just let it do its thing, puffing up and curling slightly from length, it was the least of his worries and finally slipped out of the dorm.

The stares were not his favourite, but it was something he could ignore. Everyone in the commons had something to say about him, under their breath to their friends. One person even had the courage _(ironically)_ to tell him to his face. “Go back to the dungeons, asshole.”

He gave the kid a once over and scoffed. Some third year. Like he had the capacity to care at this point, but the others in the commons seemed to agree, nodding and muttering.

When he finally made it through to the grand staircase, a group of Ravenclaws gave him the oddest looks, watching him like he was some kind of creature let loose in the castle. A Hufflepuff had the audacity to approach him, which he ignored wholeheartedly. He made a direct beeline out of the tower, through the main halls- out the doors, and down the grounds to the Owlery.

He clamoured down the path, crisp autumn air waking him up fully, and climbed the stairs to the tower. There was a first-year Slytherin feeding his small Tawny Owl near the entrance, who looked up to him without any signs of aggression. Though, Draco supposed, a first-year wouldn’t know anything about it. The first year gave him a small nod and the continued to gently talk to the owl, handing it a small parcel before feeding it some pellets- giving it affectionate little scratches before sending it off and heading on his way.

Ah. The joys of being a new student, and not having to deal with _anything._ Or know anything, for that matter.

He gave a quick whistle and the large black bird who had been perched at the top of tower swooped down, landing on the bar just in front of Draco.

“Bonjour Minuit.” He said softly, letting out a lenient exhale. “It’s been a long couple of days.” The owl watched him for a second, hooting a small hoot before resting his head in the Ex-Slytherin’s hand. Draco smiled, giving him a scratch in his favourite spot. “At least you aren’t being mean.”

He pulled the letter out of his bag and tucked it into his little case, offering a handful of grains. “Please deliver the letter to my mother, it’s the usual updates. You know.” He sighed. The owl pecked into the grains with another intelligible hoot before ruffling its feathers. “Merci.”

The owl opened its large wings, and as fast as he’d swooped down, he was out into the skies. Draco watched for a while elbows propped at the edge of the window sill, leaning out the window to catch Minuit until he was a speck in the distance, then he waited just a little longer. Trees swaying in the autumn wind. Regrettably, he had to make his way back up to the castle.

He attempted to continue throughout the day as if nothing had changed- attending the classes while ignoring the stares he received from just about every Slytherin he knew _(From just about every student he knew, more like_.) During the break, he tried studying with his late breakfast but got distracted as whispers circulated the main hall from the other students enjoying a late meal.

He proceeded to Potions- oh man, _potions._ Professor Snape had known all along- all the teachers had. McGonagall had quietly suggested they leave him to his own devices, _(excluding Umbridge, obviously. Though he didn’t blame her for not wanting to talk to that… piece of work.)_ When he entered the classroom, Snape merely gave him a once over, eyes fixating on the tie for a little too long, before returning to the labels.

He sat down in his usual spot, but the Gryffindor girl who’d been sitting next to him gave him a loud, obvious exhale before getting up to move. The pressure between him and the house was becoming extremely apparent, very quickly, and he watched as the students slowly flowed in- they all seemed to avoid his table.

He was under the assumption that he wouldn’t be sitting with anyone- neatly tucked away into the corner of the potions room with a table to himself to work quietly at _(-which he would have much preferred, he didn’t know any of the Slytherins in this specific potions class and none of them wanted anything to do with him either.)_ until Potter, Weasley and Granger bustled in. Potter got one good look at the situation before dragging Weasley with him over, Granger following behind the two idiots without much reprisal.

“Potter.” He said a little slowly, taking a deep breath to keep himself _together_ in front of the other two. “Granger, Weasley.” He then added.

Potter opened his mouth to say something, still wrestling with Weasley who obviously didn’t want to be there. “Your old table mates took our seats.” Granger interjected. “-and I’m sure Harry, who insists on trying to make this work, wants us to move over here.” Her voice was a little flat, and she sat herself down across from him, opening her textbook without much deliberation.

Draco looked over to Potter and Weasley again, Weasley now awkwardly standing next to him with his arms crossed and pursed his lips. “I’m sorry they took your seats.” He sighed. “By all means.” He didn’t want to sit with them, but he knew how it would go if he didn’t just let them do it.

Potter, looking very self-satisfied, set his bag down on the table, in front of the seat just next to Draco, and Weasley begrudgingly sat down in the seat next to Granger. “Perfect! See? Everything is a-okay.” He said, looking to the redhead.

“This is very far from _a-okay,_ Harry,” Weasley muttered under his breath. “I don’t see why we’ve got to be nice to him when he’s never been nice to us- and don’t bring up the train again.” He stuck his finger out and glared at Potter.

“It’s not my favourite thing in the world either, Weasley.” Draco didn’t look up from his book and quill. “But I’m not here to argue or fight with you lot over the trivial things.”

Potter pulled his books out, and the tension over the table seemed to settle in. “It’s just like I said, Ron. I think it’s time to bury the hatchet.” He flipped it open, turning to the board at the front to see the pages Snape had include, squinting before thumbing through the most recent chapter. “Draco needs someone to talk to, why not make this work?”

Weasley let out another groan, which Draco mocked in his mind. He really wished the guy would stop calling him Draco. “Name _one_ time he’s ever been worth the trouble.”

Granger shut her book and looked over to Weasley with a nearly exasperated look. “He’s got a point, Ron.” She said, though her voice was just as hushed as his. They were all talking as if Draco wasn’t sat there next to Potter listening. “This seems like just the _right_ opportunity to finally put all this nonsense to rest! Plus-” Her eyes flicked over to him and they locked vision for a brief second before she leaned closer and whispered to the redhead.

Ron pressed his mouth closed and exhaled through his nose. “Fine. Fine, okay. Fine. We’ll do it your way, Harry.” Despite this ‘revelation,’ he didn’t make eye contact with Draco at any point. “But you _must_ know I don’t like this at all. _He’s no good._ ”

The last part was meant to be a whisper, but it came out rather loud.

“I can hear you, you know.” Draco reminded the three of them. “ _No good?_ ” He was going to say more, but he reminded himself that he’d decided to follow McGonagall’s advice and try and play nice, so he went quiet.

“Well, to be fair.” Granger crossed her arms. “You’ve been anything _but_ good to us.” Draco supposed she was right- which was unfortunate- but he didn’t really say much else. He really should have expected that Potter would drag his friends down into this, especially after their little dinner the previous night, but the reactions were… not favourable.

The class went by surprisingly calm. There wasn’t much to say, but Potter seemed to have a knack for striking up an idle conversation which didn’t fall apart immediately. They weighed their needles and spines, reading through the effects of a new draught they were expected to create next period, and Granger and Weasley mostly kept to themselves, only really striking up a conversation with Draco when they needed him to pass something or if he had any extra phials.

“They’ll get there,” Potter said, scribbling down some measurements.

“I don’t expect them to.” He replied. “It’s a turnaround. You want to play nice, they’re being dragged through the mud of your plan.” He looked over to them, then back to the Gryffindor. “Typical, really, Potter. Dragging people around.”

“ _Harry_.” He exhaled. “ _Please_ can you call me Harry.” He ignored Draco’s quips.

The blond pursed his lips and put his quill back into his inkpot, looking over him with an unimpressed glare. “Why should I?”

“Because ‘Potter’ sounds really condescending, and if we’re going to do this- you can’t keep treating me the way it’s been for the past four years. Okay, Draco? The same goes for me too.”

Draco didn’t really know what to say, _‘Harry’_ sounded weird, coming from him. It had always been _‘Potter.’_ He sighed, things were only different because of the clause, and once it was over- things as trivial as this wouldn’t matter. “Fine… _Harry_.” He looked back to his writing.

Weasley got a kick out of that one.

“So- Malfoy.” Granger happened to pick up. “I’m rather curious, really.”

He looked up at her, holding himself from a glare. Never been too fond of her deep interests, or the unending questions she always seemed to have.

She watched him for a second, her brows furrowed. “What exactly _are_ the logistics of what happened? How did you go from… well…” She gestured with the end of her pen towards his tie.

“It’s a clause, from the _‘Book of Unusual Clauses and Cases at Hogwarts’_ Chapter 5, Section 6.” He said rather mockingly. The entire scene which took place at his rehousing was still rather fresh in his mind, all the details still in place from weeks of mulling over it. “Should a student be found in a state of inability, something about status and disposition, the heads of houses can vote to rehouse a student into their second-most fitting house. Etcetera.” He was a little sharp with his recount, bitter to say the least, and leaned back in his seat.

“So the heads of houses, well they voted for this obviously, but how did it happen? Did they personally place you here? Did the hat do it? What did it say? How did it react to the clause? How many times has this happened before—do you know?”

He groaned and put his head into his hands. He didn’t want to explain every painfully specific detail to the mud blood. “Oi ‘Moine-” Weasley bopped her shoulder. “You’re doin’ that thing again.”

“I’m _curious_ Ronald! I’ve never heard of that book—much less any written account of a _rehousing_!” She bumped back at him and leaned forward. “I simply _must_ know.”

Draco looked over to Harry, who was holding himself from a small smile. He rolled his eyes. “The hat rehoused me. It knew about the clause. Dumbledore said it happens once every decade, give or take.” He sighed. “It knew not to put me back into Slytherin, and the process itself was… drawn out.”

Weasley snorted. “You’re a pure Slytherin, I’m surprised it got done at all!”

“Exactly. It took forever because the hat couldn’t exactly… place me anywhere.” He looked down. “But then it finally made its decision, and it landed me _here_ , somehow.”

Granger nodded along with an odd interest in her eyes, invested. “So the book—The Book of Unusual Clauses and Cases?”

“Yes. It’s in the headmaster’s library, big dusty old thing.” He frowned. “No idea what else could be in there, nothing ever used or heard about nowadays.”

She continued to ask, though it wasn’t as badgering as he expected—mostly about the logistics of it all and what happened afterwards. How his transfer was, what changed, all the things that Draco had been experiencing and suffering alone was suddenly being understood by the three of them. He was so raptured in his own situation, the fact that he was finally able to talk about it with someone other than McGonagall and Eli was downright _relieving_.

The class ended without much else in terms of _problems_. There wasn’t much to argue over, they all seemed to be a lot more relaxed with the idea that Draco was there—not ecstatic—but not exactly on edge either. It _felt_ like how one might expect it to when you were hanging out with people you’d been fighting for almost 4 years, but it wasn’t bad either, exactly.

The rest of the week seemed to slowly budge by the same way, receiving looks from pretty much everyone excluding the first years, and his classes were filled with awkward stares and a lot of pressure. At any given moment, he felt like he was being watched. There was a drilling feeling in his skull from it all, but as much as he _hated_ to admit it—Harry and his friends did seem to help to some degree. It was mostly from the fact that everyone else was ignoring him, or scowling, but it _did_ help.

He went to classes and tried to avoid as much as he could, then he’d slip into the mess hall when there was barely anyone about. He’d eat a quick breakfast, slip in a lunch- and a certain _Gryffindor_ would slip him Dinner every night. Sometimes his little menagerie of friends would join. Harry had made the extreme effort to get him involved. He had a knack for dragging him into the conversation, and pulling him into group projects, and getting _his_ friends to talk to Draco—but, he supposed, it was better than being scorned by _everyone_ —and honestly? He needed some kind of outlet, because as the days passed and Umbridge the High Inquisitor grew in power—he couldn’t imagine dealing with it by himself.

He was already sick of her from the get-go, and then the _hood_ debacle made it all the more _infuriating_. Now she was parading around the classrooms, casting judgement on every professor she could get her grubby little mitts on, forcing students into _this or that,_ and the only thing keeping him from snapping was the fact that Weasley and Granger and Harry felt the same.

After a few weeks of it all, dancing around the problems he was facing and dinners with the Gryffindors- He’d found an odd sense of… _security_ in their company. _(For lack of better words)_ They were still the same bunch he’d always been annoyed with, but perhaps it was this high he was on from all the rehousing nonsense which made him feel so… weirdly comfortable with them- after all the dinner nights and shared classes. They’d had this weird… group thing going on which Draco couldn’t fully describe. He hated that he felt that sense of security- it was wasn’t that he _wanted_ to be comfortable around them, but there wasn’t much else.

One night, the odd _‘group thing’_ he’d found himself stuck with sat around the fire in the common room- dinner plates stacked in the centre of the table, rain beating against the large stained windows, thunder rolling in the background and radio humming. Harry and Weasley were lounging on the long couch, Granger was on the floor with her back leaning against the foot of seat- and he was sitting in the armchair across from them, legs hanging over the arm. They’d decided to study _(at the courtesy of Granger’s insistence.)_

Weasley let out a frustrated groan, face covered by his _Defence for Beginners_ textbook as he exasperatedly dropped his arms to his sides.

“I don’t understand how they expect us to actually _read_ this nonsense.” Granger tossed the book up onto the table and leaned into the couch, a fierce look of annoyance in her face. “Here we are, just _sitting_ around, _merlin_ knows what out there!” She pointed to the window, which lit up with lighting and beating raindrops.

“Not like anything’s going to stop them.” Harry said coldly, straining his eyes as he tried to flip through the book himself before letting out an exasperated exhale, putting his copy on top of Grangers’.

Weasley eventually peeled the book off his face, staring up at the ceiling. “ _You-Know-Who’s_ out there, and here we are, readin’ something I ‘prolly had when I was _five_.” Draco pursed his lips. You-Know-Who talk was bold- but he wasn’t going to shut down the comment.

“Like you could afford to read _anything_ until school started.” He said idly, looking up from his copy- which he’d been blankly staring at for nearly 10 minutes as it insulted his intelligence.

“Oh har har _Draco_.” He retorted. “I’m sure this is right up _your_ reading level, yeah?” He sat up a bit to shoot him an obviously over-satire glare.

He shook his head. “Most definitely. It’s a perfect speed- for a _newborn_.”

“Well, you do act like one sometimes.” He quipped back.

Harry got a good laugh out of that one, but the humour was short-lived as the radio continued to drone with constant news of disappearances and Azkaban break-outs. Draco had started to wonder, in the face of all the wizards who’d suddenly dropped off the face of the earth, if perhaps there _was_ something that had happened- with the dark lord and his followers. If all the breakouts weren’t the work of _Sirius Black_ , but someone far more sinister. He didn’t know what to think of it- given his own family’s previous connections- but it would certainly spell a lot of disaster for the coming years if it were _true_.

In the face of the silence, reports making them all more on edge- Granger looked as if she was about to explode from the frustration of the situation, Harry was blankly staring at the ceiling with one of the most exhausting expressions he could manage, and Weasley started tossing his book up in the air in an attempt to get it stuck on one of the rafters.

He sighed. “If you lot really are this broken up about _Umbridge_ and her stupid book, do what everyone else does.” He leaned forward, setting his book on the stack.

They all glanced over at him, confused. The silence was filled with the low rumble of the radio and the weather, waiting for him to elaborate. “What’re you getting at?” Weasley finally managed to sit up.

“Usually,” He reclined back into the chair, waving his hand to accentuate his point. “When you can’t do something because someone told you not to do it, you..” He lead into the answer, waiting for them to process it. He frowned when they continued to stare, waiting comically for him to finish. “You do it anyways- just behind their backs.” They let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “If you want to actually learn defence spells, hold your own dumb classes or whatever. It wouldn’t be hard to find where that _headache_ hid the old books.” 

“Of course! Rule-breaking!” Hermione crossed her arms.

“I thought that was your speciality.” He crossed his arms. “It’s not like that’s all you lot have been doing since _year one_ -and now it’s all being run by someone who, you know, actually _deserves_ to be challenged.” He added, to which Weasley nodded in agreement, looking to Granger.

She let out a long sigh, she knew he was right. “You have a point, Draco. Not like there's a slew of other options...” She stood up and looked through the window, the glass pounded by rain. “At this point, with everything out there… We really _do_ need to take this into our own hands. We do have the resources... It wouldn’t be hard, theoretically.” 

Draco returned to his book, picking it up with some disdain, rolling his eyes as she spoke. He let the three trifle through the idea themselves since he wasn’t fully interested in all the logistical or _dark_ quaff they were planning out. He still didn’t _really_ believe the Dark Lord was back, and simply listened and would occasionally make a snide remark when they had a ridiculous idea. Who on Earth would want to join _Dumbledore’s Army?_ The concept was very… _them._

It was well into the witching hours when they finally broke off and headed up to the dorms- and the concept of a secret club became more plausible with every step they took. They all seemed to finally light up with the usual fire he was used to seeing from them in previous years- the same mischievous look like they were planning something. _(Which, they were- thanks to him.)_

Draco didn’t really want to join any ‘Dumbledore’s Army.’ It sounded ridiculous, and it was bad enough being stuck in Gryffindor, where the only people who didn’t ignore him with a scowl were Harry, Granger, and Weasley _(and his other roommates, but that was different_.) But if he were to join some secret vigilante student organisation working against the school, and technically by extension, the Ministry? Well, as much as he _despised_ Umbridge and the new lesson plan- he wasn’t exactly up to being dragged into _this_ year’s shenanigans that those three always managed to get into.

-

He woke up that morning to an invitation, Harry sitting on his own bed reading in the morning light through the large window between their beds. When Draco started to shift, sitting up from under the pile of red and maroon sheets he’d been wrapped under, Harry drew his attention up from his book.

“What is it, Harry?” He asked, voice cracking from having just woken up, rubbing his eyes. “You look like you’ve got a bad idea.” He shot him a glare.

“This weekend we’re going to hold the recruitment meeting in Hogsmeade for anyone wanting to join the DA.” He said with an unusually factual tone, leaning forward a little. “Since you hung around last night, I was wondering if you wanted to come with us. You don’t have to join, of course, but it would be cool if you were there.”

Draco blinked, then laughed a small, incredulous laugh. “Right, because you’d definitely want _me_ hanging around while you’re trying to convince people to join your secret club.” He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, stretching, finally starting to wake up. “You’re trying to get members, not scare them off. I’m just about the last person you’d want there.”

“You aren’t going to scare anyone off,” He stated flatly, but there was a hint of amusement behind it. “and you seemed mildly interested last night, that’s why I’m asking.” He shrugged. “You _did_ sorta come up with the idea, y’know?”

Draco sighed at the thought of being affiliated with the DA. He was, by some happenstance, the one to suggest the whole thing, but that didn’t directly mean he wanted to be _a part of it_. “I don’t see a point in being there since I’ve no intention of joining your little _soiree_. I only came up with it because it sounded like something you’d’ve done on your own.” As he spoke, he slipped on his fresh shirt and popped the collar, tying his red and gold securely into place. 

“That’s understandable, I get it. I just thought y’know...” Harry looked a slight bit disappointed as he trailed off, which made Draco frown. He knew what he was doing, giving him the sad, dejected look to make him feel bad. It was an ill attempt. But an attempt, nonetheless.

“If I go, will you stop moping like that?” He half-cracked an unamused smile, slipping his vest on. “I’m not going to join, but I’ll be your _‘moral support’_ as they call it.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he changed his mind, but he let the words leave his mouth before he could really think, throwing up quotations around ‘moral’ and ‘support’ as if it could have any other connotation. He wasn’t ready to have Harry moping around him all day either.

The Gryffindor’s face lit up a little and he nodded. “Moral support?” He laughed. “Okay sure, sounds good to me.” He got off the bed and set the book down, patting his trousers off. “I’m going to head down to breakfast now, but I’ll see you in divination?” He was noticeably more elated when he agreed to go with them, though given his nearly _unending_ exhaustion, it was a better change of pace to see him more chipper _(though Draco would never admit that out loud, of course.)_

Gryffindor’s were weird. One second, they were frustrated or upset, sad or dejected—and the next they’re as loud and rambunctious as ever. He couldn’t place a single moment where any of his own friends had acted this way when he agreed to hang out with them, or _at all_. There was always predictability with his friends in Slytherin. _The ones he’d been ignoring all term in an ill attempt to fashion some plan together._

“See you in Divination.” He replied, watching the boy nearly bound down the stairs, quickly shutting the door behind him. The dorm became empty, save for his own likeness, as he dug through his trunk to find a cloak. 

_‘Long week’_ He thought. _‘This is going to be a long week.’_

A long week it was, as Draco continued, or stumbled, along with a monotonous schedule for 3 stretched days. Whether the slow trickle of inquisitorial rules which were hung up in front of the great hall which further drowned everyone’s spirits, or his bountiful evasions of detention with _multiple_ teachers (seeing as a few select weren’t very happy with him, or his _situation._ ) He was trying to avoid way too much and attempted to dance around way too many problems.

When the weekend finally arrived and the doors of the castle opened for the first time, enticing the students to finally escape from Umbridge’s self-made hell to the little quaint village of Hogsmeade, Draco begrudgingly walked down to the courtyard. He still hadn’t fully answered his own question: why on _Earth_ had he agreed to come with them? He had no reason to get further involved in their antics, and yet, here he was.

Here he was, awkwardly standing in the midst of the courtyard as students clamoured to turn in their letters to escape the castle, looking around for the three _idiots_ he’d been dragged with for the past two weeks. He turned in his usual permission letter before being pushed along with the crowd out to the Thestral carts, where he finally spotted them, waiting for him in one of the carriages. Harry waved him over, patting the space next to his, and he rolled his eyes, walking over.

“Blimey Draco, we aren’t going to a funeral.” Weasley snorted, giving him a wide once-over. “Or a fancy Malfoy Dinner party either.” He pointed towards Draco’s clothes, which were clean-cut. A black blazer, slacks, dress shoes and a black dress shirt. Compared to them, he _did_ look a little odd. He supposed, his usual friends dressed similarly- but Harry, Weasley, and Granger were all dressed in jackets, t-shirts, and jeans. Very _muggle_.

“I don’t dress like I’m from the _slums_.” He retorted, climbing up onto the carriage. “It’s all that’s in my wardrobe.”

“With your family’s fortune? You could afford to not look like a _Mortician._ ” Harry laughed, which Granger joined in on. Draco wasn’t sure what that was, and Weasley seemed to be rather clueless too- was it a muggle insult?

He pushed a frown, letting out a loud exhale. “Well, _my_ family isn’t really known for wearing stuff like… _That_.” He pointed to Ron’s scarf, which he assumed was hand-knit. “Malfoys’ hold themselves to a higher standard than… denim.”

Granger shook her head, pulling her hat down. “Oh no-! _Merlin_ forbid the _denim_. Run, Malfoy, your silk and cashmere are going to be _soiled_.” He couldn’t help a small crack of a smile, the carriage starting down the path to the Hogsmeade to the sound of light-hearted laughs and poking fun at each other, even if it was at the expense of his clothing.

They arrived at the village, hopping off onto the cobbled streets. The bustle of students all around them _finally_ free from the inquisitorial rules was cacophony. It was downright _liberating_ to not be expected to wear the uniform perfectly or hold books a certain way.

Escaping the mass of suddenly wild children, the four of them turned precisely two paths down until reaching an inn that nested in the unassuming, quiet part of the village. The rickety building was dodgy to say the least, and the creaking of the door drew attention from many barely seen faces of the similarly scary patrons. There weren’t any shops or interesting buildings around, no students bounding down the path.

“Very… quaint.” Draco uttered, crossing his arms.

“It won’t draw much attention,” Granger said, walking into the pub with some dignity. “Come, we’re using the back room.” The four shuffled awkwardly through the bar, ignoring the stares of the shady customers. _‘If this doesn’t scare them off, I’m pretty sure they won’t be too worried about me.’_ Draco thought, feeling his nerves fray.

“Who’s meeting us? I invited a few people myself but...” Harry asked in a low voice as they reached the back room. “I mean, what if I can’t do this? How many people are going to be depending on me teaching them?”

“Just a few people. Nothing bigger than a normal double-potions class.” Granger reassured him, but that was still a lot of people. He took a deep breath, and they settled in the near-empty room, waiting for the invitees to converge. Draco felt very misplaced, sitting behind the table with the three as if he _actually_ had something to do with all of it, but it was better than wandering around the Gryffindor Commons and the castle all day and potentially having to speak to people he’d _rather not._ He leaned back, settling into the seat with a long exhale.

The students slowly began to appear, one by one, and within ten minutes- there were well over 30 people sitting impatiently on the benches in the room, and Draco could only place a few names to a few faces. He barely knew most people outside of his own house, so the menagerie was more than a little jarring to him.

“You all know why we’re here. We need a teacher. A real one. Not the ministry holding us captive with _children’s_ books.” Granger started after the room settled. “That’s why I’ve invited you all here.”

The group was sceptical, questioning everything that the three said as they stood in front of them, but they agreed that Umbridge _had_ to go. Most of them didn’t believe that the Dark Lord really had returned, and a lot of them weren’t exactly _thrilled_ with Harry Potter of all people- and the back-and-forth questioning led to comments about Cedric Diggory, which made the room filled with an uneasy air.

Harry looked as if he were going to leave himself, Diggory was a touchy subject- “Is it true you can cast a Patronus?” A small, light voice piped up amongst the doubt of the group. Luna Lovegood, Draco could barely recognise her from the Thestral Cart ride they’d taken at the beginning of the year.

Granger nodded. “I’ve seen it. It’s incredibly powerful.” As she said that, the interest of the group began to shift again, some students leaning forward to listen.

“Fought off about a hundred dementors, third year,” Weasley added. Draco didn’t know that- it couldn’t possibly be true, could it? Though, could he put it past the idiot to go up against a _hundred_ dementors. “He’s years ahead of any of us, and he’s going to run this whole thing.” He then added, which made Harry tense up a little as eyes all landed on him.

“I know for a fact that the Dark Lord has risen again,” Harry said quietly. “I was there, despite the doubt you all have.” He wrung his hands as he spoke. “Being in a defence class and really being out in the world are two completely different things… In one, you find you can just keep trying- keep studying… In the other, you will find yourself dead.” His voice got even softer as he said that. “That’s why we want to form the DA.” He paced across the creaking floorboards. “In a real battle, there will be times where you or someone you love is inches from death… And in a real battle, there’s a chance you won’t be able to save them, or yourself.”

Draco felt his head swim for a moment as he spoke, the images of death running past his psyche. _‘He’s… right.’_ His chest tinged up, anxiety poking at him. _‘He couldn’t possibly be lying. The way he described it… as if he knew...’_ In his mind, it clicked in that very moment, and he took a deep breath, watching Harry as he paced and moved. He’d witnessed something unspeakable.

“S’load of bullocks, of course, your friends are going to stick up for you.” A Ravenclaw interrupted everyone’s thoughts loudly. “Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re all a load of nutcases, there’s no way the Dark Lord is back- and breaking a load of rules to make some secret club is ridiculous, even if Umbridge is a nightmare.”

The room fell back into dissuasion and mixed feelings, and the low whispers made Harry deflate a little. He returned to his seat, looking down at his hands. Draco pursed his lips, he was about to do something rather stupid.

“Well,” He started, which caused everyone to look back up again. They all knew him, even if he wasn’t fully aware of them. “Even if he is a nutcase, I believe him.” He crossed his arms and shifted in his seat. Most of them knew who he was, and what happened to him- and his rivalry with Harry, which made them all the more surprised. “-and trust me, I wouldn’t back him up on such a ridiculous plan unless I truly did. Even if there isn’t a Dark Lord—which I don’t know if there is or isn’t—this club does more good than harm, _especially_ with Umbridge running the school.”

The whispers ceased, the room was surprised to find him present at the meeting, and even more surprised that he was actually _supporting_ the idea of a DA, and Granger pitched in when she saw the opportunity. “Even if you don’t believe any of us.” She gestured to the four, including herself. “That doesn’t excuse Umbridge’s teaching methods or her punishment decisions. We aren’t getting the education that we were promised, and our intelligence is getting _insulted_ by her lesson plans.” The students began to nod along. “Between that, and the dark lord? Why _wouldn’t_ you want to join?”

The sound of rustling and benches moving against legs as people began to stand up filled the room- approaching the table to the sign-up sheet they’d placed at the head of the table. Those who couldn’t handle the idea of the DA left—but the eager line of students that waited to jot their names down but a smile on Harry, Granger, and Weasley’s faces.

Kids from third to sixth year all signed on, numerous signatures in all sorts of handwriting filled the parchment, and the final member signed her name and exited the room with a confident smile on her face. The room slowly began to empty—kids excited to start, talking in hushed voices as they headed out to Honeydukes or Madame Puddifoots.’

Draco stood awkwardly near to wall at the front, watching the group as it developed, his lips still pursed. As the crowd died down, Harry came over with a coy smile on his face. “‘Believe me now’, then?” He grinned. “‘Even if I am a nutcase?’ ‘Such a ridiculous plan?’ How kind, Draco.” Draco rolled his eyes, letting out a long sigh.

“You weren’t doing too well on your own, looked like. Thought I might step in and help.” He explained, shifting from one foot to the other. “You lot really don’t know how to sell the DA, and you peddle yourselves short.”

“How thoughtful, Draco, whatever would we do without your gracious and unlimited power?” Granger joked, picking up the list to read over it.

“Don’t test me, Granger.” He cracked a smile, walking over to the table. “How many people was _I_ able to convince?” She chuckled.

“29. We have 29, include Ronald, Harry and I.” She smiled, showing him the list. Every name was in different handwriting, at the top was the title: Dumbledore’s Army.

He nodded and sighed. “I think our work here is done, then. Shall we?” He pointed towards the door. He’d like to get a few snacks and stock up on books from the library on the west end of the village, space out and stare at some trees afterwards if he could help it.

“Yeah- Fred and George said they’ve got something planned at the bridge that we _just have to see_.” Weasley let out a drawn exhale, looking to Granger who looked as if she paled a shade.

“That’s not good.” She laughed. “They’re going to get banned from the village this year, for sure.” They made their way to the worn-out door, and then, it was just him and Harry left in the rickety meeting room. Harry wrung his hands, and Draco looked over to him.

“I’d call it quite a success.” Draco complimented, offering him a smile. Harry looked more than a little perturbed at the mention of Cedric, but he was pleased with the outcome.

“Yeah, I’m glad… I was nearly convinced it was going to fall apart.”

Draco smiled a pat his back. “Well thank Merlin you had me here to fix it.”

Harry didn’t any anything for a moment, as if processing what Draco said, eyes still fixated on the paper. He then looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Thank Merlin for sure.” He paused. “I was hoping to get 30, though.”

“A shame really, some of those Ravenclaws weren’t having it though.” He crossed his arms. “I guess a secret club isn’t for everyone.”

Harry’s keen eyes locked with his for a moment, and he cocked his head to the side. “Is it for you?” He asked quietly. “Secret clubs, I mean.”

There was a long silence.

“I’m not sure.” He managed to reply.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you joining, you’d be a great addition.” He set the paper down on the table next to the quill Granger had left. “It’s not a matter of lack of skill, is it?” There was a small smirk on his face.

Draco shook his head quickly. “I’m sure my skills are adequate for your little group- I’m just not entirely sure the other members would want an ex-Slytherin running around. I mean, come on, Potter.”

Harry crossed his arms, leaning against the table. “Harry,” he reminded “-and you just convinced them all to join. Isn’t that a little contradicting?”

Draco broke eye contact, letting his sight drop to the rickety old floorboard of the inn. “I don’t know, me _being_ here is a little contradicting, don’t you think?”

“Think of it as a little… vacation. Until your father comes and fixes the rehousing situation. It’ll get you out of the commons and away from Umbridge and the… other students who might not be as amiable.” The pause in sound was filled by the creaking of the ceiling and the distant sound of students out in the streets. “You don’t have to stay, just, try it- won’t you?”

“This whole situation has felt like one long trip, doesn’t it?” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his trousers, approaching the table. “Why me, though? Aren’t you trying a little too hard to get me to like you?” He let his eyes glaze over the paper, weighing his options. “I mean, it’d be much easier on everyone if you just left me alone, it’s only a matter of _weeks_ until my father sorts things out.”

“It’s a lot less work being nice to you than it is being mean.” He retorted. “And I think you’ve still got some good in you, I just gotta coax it out.” He smirked and put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring pat. “It’s up to you, but I think it might be good, for all of you—plus what if you end up liking the DA? It’ll give me an excuse to see you outside of classes even after you’ve been transferred back to the dungeons.”

He released his hand, and walked away from the table, heading towards the door. The blonde let whatever warmth in his face recede as he cleared his throat. “Harry- it’s not permanent.” He pursed his lips, watching him as he stopped in the frame of the door, hand on the latch.

“I know, so why not take a few risks?” He smirked. “Have some fun while you’ve got that ‘Gryffindor Spirit’ to back you up. McGonagall would probably chalk whatever you did now up to some little rebellious spits, or something like that.” He opened the door and stepped out onto the cobblestone pathway. “Up to you, don’t forget to grab the list and the quill when you head out- We’ll meet up with you at the carriages?”

Before he could retaliate, or even _reply_ , Harry Potter had disappeared from his sight, and the rickety door clanged shut against the old doorframe. He was alone in the room where the DA had been born, hand resting on the edge of the surface, centimetres away from the quill and ink. _“Always deciding things for yourself.”_ He whispered under his breath.

He let his eyes move from the wooden door to the parchment. Why’d he leave it with him? He could easily take it to Professor Snape or Umbridge—easily put a stop to their meddling just as he’d done so many times before. He could easily throw it into the river or tear it up—hell, he could have every single one of the students on the list in for detention.

And yet- he knew that he wasn’t going to do that. He knew he wasn’t going to turn anyone in. He wasn’t going to follow the instinct that had always driven him these past 4 years.

_“Oh, to hell with it.”_ He muttered from grit teeth. _“While I’m caught up in this mess.”_ He gingerly picked up the quill- dried from the prolonged conversation he’d had with _Harry Potter_ of all people. He dipped the tip into the small well, and then directed his hand down the bottom of the list. _“It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”_

The soft movement against the thick paper caught a lump in his throat as he elegantly placed his signature down, under the name Hannah Abbot. He blew on the paper for a moment, watching the shine disappear as the liquid dried, and he tapped the quill dry against the edge of the well. He capped the well and put the quill in his bag, then stared at the page for a little longer.

30 names. Seemed like Potter always got what he wanted.

After collecting himself, he left the inn. There was a brief stop to the small market just near the square where he bought some snacks and packages of parchment and wax- then he headed to the bookstore at the edge of the row. The selection wasn’t incredible, but there were plenty of books that caught his eye. As much as he hated to admit it, his attention seemed to draw towards some of the more fictitious _muggle written_ books. He’d never had an interest in anything that wasn’t magical or otherwise useful for his studies- until now. Maybe it was Harry and Granger’s comments on the muggle world that had his interest piqued _(as he still wasn’t sure what a mortician was)_ that had him picking up a leathery tome by the name of “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” but he wasn’t sure.

He did buy the book, however. The picture of the elegant sea craft on the front had really captured his curiosity.

He spent the rest of the day wandering the village, though he found himself facing the outskirts of the streets, instead of any of the shops he’d usually stop at. The roll of parchment in his bag felt like a hundred tons of weight on his back _(or maybe it was the books he’d bought,)_ even if he forced himself not to think on it too hard.

He spaced out, finding himself leaning against the fencing which bordered the paths. The rolling hills and distant landscapes calmed his burdened breaths, but only for a little. What had he gotten himself into? Letting Harry Potter get involved in his life like this? Finding out about his… problem, bringing dinners up to the common room for him, getting his weird _friends_ involved. Now he was going along with this _insane_ plan. Although, admittedly, he _really_ didn’t like Umbridge—and it was all temporary anyways, wasn’t it? The next few weeks wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.

Sure, he’d been ignoring his old friends—mostly out of shame _(what was he supposed to say now? With all the rumours out and about—he wouldn’t know where to begin with them_ ) and he’d been hanging out with _Potter_ and his menagerie of friends. Sure, he was getting involved in a lot of stuff he’d _never_ usually get involved with, and he was making a lot of _weird_ choices- but hey, this was all some crazy trip.

They’d forgive him once he returned to Slytherin, it was all some senseless punishment and misunderstanding. He’d go back to his normal life and leave all this _Gryffindor_ shit behind. It was just a waiting game. He’d explain everything once his father sorted it out, and they’d forgive him. Everything would be okay.

When the bells chimed, he slowly made his way down to the gates of the village. Students weren’t too keen to return to the castle, knowing what they’d find, and took their time loading the carriages.

He couldn’t see Harry or the others in the crowd, so he clambered onto an empty cart and waited, thumbs twiddling away as he watched the other students slowly file into their own wagons. There was a brief _second_ of eye contact with someone in the mass of students- Blaise Zabini- but he looked away before he could exchange anything else. He’d made it a personal mission not to get them involved until his father had fixed the mess- but he heard the distant _“Draco-!”_ from the crowd.

He ignored it, looking ahead, lips pursed.

“Draco- D-D—” He heard the struggle as Blaise pushed through the large rows of students taking their time to board carriages of their own, getting closer. “Draco! Come on— _watch it idiot_! Draco! I know you can hear me-“

Only a few steps away, Blaise’s calls made Draco feel worse, having lied to them this whole time, only to ignore them. He’d already dragged _Potter and Co._ into the mess though, and quiet frankly trying to also drag his other friends into the ordeal would just lead to even more problems. Apologising and admitting it was a really confusing and upsetting situation a _few weeks from now_ would be far easier than facing them now. What would he even do now? Still stuck in Gryffindor, being paraded around? He wouldn’t know what to do at _all._ At least after the fact, he might be able to look back and laugh, chalk it all up to a confusing clause—but without that certainty—without knowing when and how this mess was going to end, he couldn’t _possibly_.

Before Blaise’s hand could reach the rail of the wagon to draw Draco’s attention, a certain green-eyed Gryffindor boarded without warning, which caused the Slytherin in pursuit to stop dead in his tracks.

“You would not believe what they did this time-“ Harry started loudly, a wide incredulous smile on his face, sitting down next to Draco.

Granger shook her head, boarding with Weasley. “They nearly blew a hole in the roof of the Three Broomsticks, how those two manage to keep themselves from getting banned, I’ll never know.”

“Now I’m a little _sad_ I wasn’t there- sounds like a trip to remember.” He smirked. “All I did was mope around and stare at trees- meanwhile, you three were out doing what you do best.”

Granger looked at him, jokingly offended, “and what would that be- Mr. Malfoy?”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his legs. “Making trouble where trouble needs making, of course.” He looked over to Harry, arms crossed, but from the corner of his eye he saw Blaise falling back into the crowd.

He looked.. less than ecstatic, then started to walk the other way.

“Do you have the parchment?” Harry asked, which pulled him from the side glace he’d fixated into the crowd of students.

“Honestly, why’d you leave it to _him_ to hold onto it?” Weasley sighed. “I know you’re trying to get us to trust him but don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

Draco looked back to the carriage and put a hand in his bag, fishing the parchment out, which he had rolled in anticipation for this moment. “Here, I didn’t do anything, don’t worry, Weasley.” Harry took the paper and unrolled it slowly, which caused Draco’s nerves to fray. “All 29 signatures, nothings been tampered with. You all can relax knowing I didn’t immediately screw you over.”

“Like that time in first year?” Weasley leered.

“-Or second year.” Ganger added.

Draco squinted. “Lest we forget third or fourth year.” They laughed.

“Do you have my quill, by the way?” Ganger then added, idly. “I left it with you and Harry, no worries if you didn’t grab it.”

“I’ve got it- hold on.” He dug back into his bag. “I liked the feel, writes really well- is it German?” He asked, holding it out, across the carriage.

Granger shook her head, “French, I’m quite partial to it, I thought I’d use one of my nicer quills for such an event.” She tentatively picked it from his hands. “A bit silly of me to leave it behind, though I was hoping either you or Harry would’ve grabbed it for me.”

The carriage began to move, heading down the beaten trail back to the castle, the wagon creaking as they sat in a relative silence. “Harry, you’re being too quiet.” Weasley kicked him in the shin. “Stare too hard and you’ll get a headache.”

His green eyes finally peeled from the list, up to Ganger and Weasley, then over to Draco- as if asking for permission to show them the list. Draco pursed his lips, looking down, then back up- giving the slightest nod. The silence was, if anything, appreciated.

He handed the list over to Ganger, who gave him an odd look, but let her eyes fall to the names. It was obvious when she’d reached the end, lips parting and eyes going wide, before looking up to Draco. “I was wondering… why you’d complimented my quill.” She started.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Draco retorted, face getting red. “Don’t. Don’t even.” He stuck his finger up at her.

Weasley exchanged looks with Granger and Harry. “What’s… Am I missing something?” He grabbed the list from Gangers’ hand, reading the list. His face dropped. “Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, that makes more sense.” He looked up.

“I don’t want to hear it.” The Slytherin kept his finger up.

“Hear what?” Weasley smirked. “Your signature is ridiculous, by the way. What’s up with the squiggle at the end?” He turned the list around and pointed.

Draco threw his head into his hand with a groan. “It’s called a _flourish_ , Weasley. Not that you’d know anything about that.” He snatched the paper out of his hands. “If you keep it up, I’ll rip the bottom of this paper off right now and _burn_ it!”

Granger couldn’t hold herself from a small smile. “You’re quite talented, Draco. You know- Harry and I were coming up with some lesson plans if you’d like to join us-“ He fervently shook his head, ignoring that they all seemed to suddenly be on first name basis with him. “I’m only teasing- I’m surprised you decided to sign on.”

“You and me both.” He managed to grit. “It’s only temporary! It’ll give me something to do in this godforsaken castle while that _crone_ is patrolling the halls like a dictator.” He quickly shoved the list into Harry’s hands. “None of this is permanent, so why—” he let out a large exhale. “—why not while I’m still on this trip?”

Harry had a shit-eating grin on his face as he crisply folded the list and tucked it into the pocket of his trousers. “We’re happy to have you until then, right?” He looked to the other two.

“While he’s here. Why not?” Weasley rolled his eyes. “I guess he hasn’t been all bad, right Draco?”

He shot a glare, but it wasn’t one out of spite. “Of course, while I’m here, _Ronald._ ” He pushed the last part out with peered eyes. The redhead didn’t seem fully prepared for that- given the look on his face when he paled. “-and I’m sure I’ll have _plenty_ to teach you- _Hermione._ ” He added, crossing his arms. She’d probably be the only person in the group he’d have any worthwhile practicing with, besides Harry, after all.

When the carriage finally stopped at the gates of the grandiose school, they checked back in and climbed the stairs of the large stone entrance. Their conversation was filled with light, albeit vague, banter. It seemed his little decision to spend the last few weeks of his _trip_ as a Gryffindor in Dumbledore’s Army had garnered first name basis with them now. The signature also seemed to push _some_ semblance of trust on him from them- they weren’t exactly treating him like he was _Draco Malfoy_ anymore- and the conversations took a surprisingly amiable turn.

The treacherous, exhausting climb up the stairs to the commons seemed to only fill him with more unanticipated excitement. Something about this string of events was giving him an unexpected eagerness. It’s not that he really _wanted_ to do all this rule-breaking, Gryffindor nonsense- but the three’s passions seemed to be rubbing off on him with every step they took. Before they could reach the commons however, a loud voice disrupted the entire school, scraping the walls through the loud speakers Umbridge had installed. 

**“All student organisations are henceforth disbanded. Any Clubs or Organisations wishing to form or reform must be approved by the High Inquisitor. Any noncompliance students will be expelled immediately.”**

“She’s omnipotent, isn’t she?” Granger gritted. “We have to be careful- one wrong word and we could all be suspended.” She stopped at the top of the stairs. “ _All_ organisations? This is a school!”

“Clubs too, wouldn’t that count quidditch teams?” Weasley frowned, practically hissing the password to the fat lady. “What are people supposed to do with their free time? Sit around an’ space out?”

Draco sighed, stepping into the hallway which led to the main Gryffindor tower. As he sauntered into the large, warm room, he turned to the others. “When has anyone here stopped you before?” He slung his bag over his shoulder. “If anything, it just pisses _me_ off even more. Makes me want to do it even more, since she’s _so_ adamant on shutting **_us_** down.”

Even if he hadn’t realised it in the moment, the second the words left his mouth, there seemed to be some silent, mutual understanding. This wasn’t just about one thing or another—it was a group effort. Dumbledore’s Army had been established, and even if it was only on a whim, only temporarily in a conceited effort to go against Umbridge—Draco was not undoubtedly a part of this complicated scheme.

The fact that the DA was under the pretence of **_‘Us’_** was just the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for the late update!! Life got really hectic, and his chapter felt really long!!  
> The next chapter is already being edited so hopefully, I can start editing in a more timely function and get more of the story out there! I've been doing a lot of drafting for the later books, and research, so I'm excited to share it all with you!
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe, all comments and critiques are welcome and appreciated! Thank you~  
> -Gav


	5. The Penultimate Fever Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining the DA; Draco seems to be riding an inexplicable high- doing things he would never do in Slytherin.  
> After being away from the house of ambition for so long.. guilt begins to eat at him, and he finds the worst opportunity to talk to his old friends.
> 
> Meetings, new and old friendships alike, and a surprisingly large amount of banter fill Draco's life as he begins to navigate being in the DA- and his attempts to take responsibility for his actions—
> 
> But he can’t anticipate everyone’s feelings... or how they’ll react- wether good, or bad.

“Somewhere we can actually _fit_ a class of students.” She groaned. “-but somewhere that _wretched—”_

“— _old toad_ won’t find us!” Weasley finished.

They sat in their odd little circle in the common room, why Draco decided this would be a good idea to listen in on, well- that didn’t matter right now, did it? He found himself sitting on the floor at the end of the table, Harry sitting behind him in the armchair- Ronald and Hermione were sitting on the couch, with the Weasley girl- _Ginny-_ sitting on the floor. The table was covered in books, empty mugs, and an _odd_ piece of parchment that Draco was rather impressed, and also quite _scared_ of.

They called it a _Marauders Map,_ and it showed _everyone._ To think that these… idiots… had something powerful enough to show the location of every _single person_ in the castle? What on Earth else had they been hiding away in their little group?

They were watching the map, as if to find a room no one went in—one that was appropriately large enough to fit an entire class of children in it- at least. Draco had come up with _some_ possibilities, none of them good though. He suggested that blasted _Girl’s Bathroom-_ before realising Umbridge had all of that on such high-patrol, he doubted it would ever work. There was also the forbidden forest- but it was a risky venture for students to travel there- _especially_ a large group of them. He even mentioned the _Prefect’s Bathroom_ —but then he realised, a bunch of prefects, from every house? They’d never let _30 kids_ use their _precious bathroom_ for their ridiculous plans.

It was sufficient to say, this was harder than he thought it would be.

“Oh—Neville’s approaching.” Hermione reported, watching the footprints on the map move slowly towards the room. “Looks like he’s in an awfully fast rush, do you think he thought of something?” She looked at the others. That bumbling fool? Draco doubted it.

It had been over 5 days since the DA was founded. There was nothing. The rushing excitement that Draco inexplicably had had this entire time was starting to rapidly dwindle. What was the point in him stupidly joining this _Dumbledore’s Army_ if it was going to end up a fluke anyways? His taste in judgement had seemingly diminished while here as well. He wouldn’t lie to himself either- he was slightly disappointed. His whole rehousing punishment and rehab felt like a fever dream he couldn’t wake up from. The idea of rebelling against Umbridge and the ministry in a secret army would never have surfaced in Slytherin- but in Gryffindor it came almost naturally to him to think about. He felt like he was being whisked away on a ride- but now the ride had stopped, and it was far less exciting.

Longbottom practically rushed in seconds after Hermione announced it, out of breath from his treacherous climb up the flights of stairs. He didn’t say much, but frantically gestured for them to follow him. Draco wasn’t fully in the mood to dash down a tower—but it also beat sitting around doing nothing. He led them down the stairs as discreetly as he could, and they stopped at a blank wall.

“Congratulations, Longbottom, you’ve discovered _walls!”_ He glared. “Who’s going to tell him about _ceilings?_ Shall I?”

Ronald looked over his shoulder and returned his scowl. “Quit being a prick, Malfoy.”

As they spoke, however, the seemingly blank stone face suddenly became far less _blank_ as the outline of a door appeared against the grey, then a dark oak colour which to the surface, intricate designs of vines and leaves bordering the edge of a suddenly present portal.

“The room of requirement…” Hermione murmured. “You found the room of requirement!”

“The room of… what now?” Ron broke his stare with Draco.

Hermione excitedly approached the door, putting a hand on the ring. “The Room of Requirement… only appears when someone has _real_ need of it! It’s…” She pushed the door open. “It’s perfect!”

Harry smiled and clasped his hands together and entered the room, spacious and ready for use. “It’s as if Hogwarts _knows_! It wants us to fight back!” He exclaimed, pacing down the room with an almost bewildered look in his eyes.

Draco followed the group in, and was astounded by the sheer size of the room, the vaulted ceilings and the glossy mirrored walls which almost looked like windows, and the fact that he had never actually _seen_ the room of requirement- only heard about it in books. The very existence of it was… questionable- until now.

He, Harry, Ronald, Hermione, Longbottom and the Weasley Girl stood in the center of the massive room- and he felt that stupid excitement return. However much he’d lost in their lull of activity was suddenly not only replenished, but far more powerful—there was a real part of him that wanted to see this through until he was back in Slytherin.

Until he was back in Slytherin. It’s not like this was a _real_ thing he was doing, for the long-run.

As one might expect, planning immediately began- Harry was practically running wall to wall coming up with ideas- Hermione thinking of what lessons to do, how to get everyone there for the first meeting—There was a bustle which pulled Draco in.

“We’ll have a break area over here! I’m sure there’s spare chairs and tables we can borrow from the rehearsal room—” The green-eyed Gryffindor mused. “A mirror! We’ll put the picture of the original order there—”

“See if you can’t get one of those water pitchers that never runs out, will you?” Draco joked. “Keep them hydrated.” For some reason the idiot nodded in agreement, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes, leaning against the wall as the others dared to plan. He, of course, had his doubts on whether this was a good idea _at all._ Most of his anxieties and concerns had disappeared when he picked up the quill and wrote his name down, but there were lingering nerves that frayed him—even with a completely undetected space like this—which wasn’t _even on the map—_ he feared Umbridge might be smarter. She, after all, did control the castle.

Not to mention, what if his parents found out? Brainwashed? Perhaps blame it on Gryffindor influence _(although, that was exactly what was happening…)_ This wasn’t very _rule-abiding_ either, and he was still on his stupid “rehabilitation” or whatever- as much as he tried to forget. If the teachers or Eli found out he was in a secret club, who knows what would happen? Bad things, most likely- and the students- he wasn’t exactly _Mr Popular_ right now, he never had been with most of the people outside Slytherin- now he didn’t even have his house to back him up… Who’s to say it would even work out?

Well, it was all beside the point- which was that that _stupid_ feeling of enthrallment refused to cease in his stomach. Rule breaking with his proclaimed enemies? It was such a different situation, he wasn’t sure what was up or down anymore.

They returned that afternoon, still muttering their plans, and went up to their dorms, though Draco stayed behind, sitting down next to a certain prefect whom caught his eye on the way in.

“You look chipper.” Eli pulled her NEWT potions study book down, giving Draco a look. “Did something good happen?”

“Nothing of the sort, just here for my daily check-in.” Draco replied, crossing his legs. “It’s just been the same old as usual.”

She looked back down to her reading with a sigh that told him she didn’t believe that for one second. “I see you and Harry Potter and his friends are getting along quite swimmingly, care to share?” She smirked. “I’m glad you found a place here, in Gryffindor.”

He scoffed, tilting his head to the side. “Not quite sure what you mean, Fawley. Merely happenstance, I share several classes with them, that’s all.”

She chuckled. “I didn’t know the Common Room was actually a Classroom.” Draco pursed his lips. “-Not to mention _I’m_ the one who brought and approved their request to eat up here with you with McGonagall. I’m beginning to think not only that they care—but you like their company as well.”

Draco shook his head. “Really now, they just pity me.” He sighed. “Stupid Potter refuses the idea of me skipping dinner- they stick to me like glue.”

“Well it looked rather much like you sticking to them when Longbottom came in and you all followed. Truly, you all look like best friends.” She giggled. “I’m only playing with you, Draco. I’m glad you aren’t alone.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not like it’s permanent.” He started. “Any day now, my father will come.” He tried to sound sure of himself, but the creeping doubt which had been growing… only seemed to become more permanently engrained.

“And… what if he doesn’t?” She looked up to him again. “You know, you can’t just… expect everything to go according to your plan.”

“If everything went my way, I wouldn’t be here, Fawley. I know this… but I’m trying to remain optimistic.” He uncrossed his legs. “I suppose I’ll just finish up and quit complaining if he doesn’t show. Give him an earful this summer.” He got up. “That’s all I have to report on today, I’ll talk to you later.”

She had attempted to reply, but he walked away before she could manage to.

Returning to the dorm, letting himself fall into the squashy, comfortable bed, he let out a long sigh. Harry tossed him a pillow which landed on his face, leaning over. “You look royally pissed.”

“More so than usual.” Ronald added. “You’ve got your scowl on you only show when old toad face enters the room."

"Oh har har." Draco muffled from under the pillow. "Everyone's a critic when I'm upset."

Harry came over, removing the pillow from his face. "What's got you down? You looked so excited earlier-- even if you were _hiding_ it." He tossed the pillow into Draco's hands.

"Nothing, really." He replied, harshly tossing the pillow toward Ronald. _'Plenty, actually.'_ His conversation with Fawley reminded him of really… too much. "Just the usual prattle in my brain, nothing special."

Ron tossed the pillow to Harry. "Out with it, Slytherin." He sighed. "Your moping gets annoying too quickly." Usually, Draco would be offended by that statement, but... for some reason it got a bemused huff from the blond.

"Where to begin?" He caught the pillow as Harry passed it back to him, throwing it back over his head to Ron again. "Fawley just told me we're all _'Thick as Thieves'_ as they say." He sighed. "Bothers me, being reminded that I'm getting dragged along by you lot. Her telling me 'oh, Draco they care about you! I'm beginning to think you care too-' isn’t particularly my favourite thing to hear." His impression of Fawley got a good laugh out of the green-eyed Gryffindor, albeit the contents of his words made him slightly confused.

"Of course, we care Draco!" He retorted, as the ginger tossed him the pillow again. "Although I think Ron's still getting used to the notion-"

"Shut it- he's alright." the Weasley interrupted.

"-and I'd hope you care too!" He leaned forward, eyes catching Draco's. "We're your friends, yeah?"

_Friends? With Harry Potter, and his little band of blood traitors and mudbloods?_

He sighed, rolling his eyes as he reached up, grabbing the pillow out of his hands. "Yeah yeah, whatever. Friends, Allies, Peers… etcetera.” The pillow found itself back into the redhead’s hands. “Weird, isn’t it? Getting along?”

Both of the Gryffindors laughed, nodding in agreement- but their little game of catch came to a close. “Have you talked to your other friends yet?” The Weasley asked—which really, he prayed the didn’t bring it up.

“Ah, no.” He admitted. “I saw Blaise at the carriages… last weekend, but I… ignored him.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t know what to say! I thought all this nonsense would be done with… My original intentions were to just apologise after I was rehoused… but I mean- what if it’s like this ‘till winter?!”

Harry sat down next to him. “Maybe we should talk to them, then. Just… in case it is “ _till winter_?”

Draco shook his head, putting the pillow over his head that they’d been tossing around, letting out a stifled sigh again. “It’s not that simple, they don’t like you lot.”

“Neither did you ‘till you got stuck with us.” Ron said, slipping off his bed to cross over, finding a seat across from them on the squashy bed. “Although, we didn’t like you much either, I still don’t think I trust you…” Harry scoffed. “I don’t _fully_ trust you.” He corrected.

“Well… I ignored them.” The blonde sighed, “I ignored them and I lied to them.” It felt ridiculous, the way he’d acted, and how he’d treated them. Granted, he was only 15- they were kids, how bad could it be? But it… wasn’t enough to stop his guilt. “… Really, I should’ve just told them the truth… but I didn’t and now I wouldn’t even know where to begin!”

“Start with an apology.” Harry pursed his lips. “…and then, I dunno, catch up?”

He then shot a look to Ron, who shrugged. “I don’t know anything about anything when it comes to… that.” He gestured vaguely. “Ask ‘Mione. She’s a girl.”

“Right, and you’ve got as much emotional awareness as a rat would, Ron.” Draco couldn’t help a small chuckle. “Though, apologising would probably be for the best- I only have one class with them, Defence, but… it would be less awkward if I could.” He sat up. “I’m surprised you two are so good at consoling- I was expecting you to tease me.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation—your emotional intelligence isn’t any better than Ron’s.” Harry joked. “But we’re happy to help-“

“- _he’s_ happy to help.” Ron interjected.

Harry rolled his eyes. “ _I’m_ happy to help you when you need it, okay?”

Although it didn’t exactly _fix_ anything, he supposed it was nice—being able to talk to them. Ronald was… still struggling to like him, but… it wasn’t animosity. This wasn’t… bad, being able to talk to them. Admittedly, he wasn’t even this close with his actual dormmates, since he and his friends were split between their year’s rooms…

And… he knew he had to make this right.

The weekend finally came, and Draco awoke in the frumpy, soft Gryffindor bed he’d come to love burying himself in every night. He took a moment to fully wake himself up, and pulled a grey sweater adorned in maroon and gold over his white dress shirt, sliding his uniform pants on afterwards. Not a skip in his beat, this time—despite his distaste for the colours. Took a quick look in the mirror, combing through his rather… unruly blonde hair _(thanks Gryffindor.)_ before swinging the dark mahogany door of the dorm open, quickly making his way downstairs.

He gave a short nod to the few Gryffindors he vaguely knew, before making his way down to the main hall for breakfast. He set his bag down, next to Harry, and then gave him a look.

Today, he was at least going to make the _attempt_ to talk to his old friends. He had to. There was no way he could let himself go on with this nonsense any longer without at least _trying._ Harry knew that, he could tell, and waved him off to go find them.

“Go, we’ll wait.” He was thankful for those three words.

He crossed the hall, where several students were dotted, eating breakfasts, talking about plans for the weekend or trips to Hogsmeade—however, his group of friends- Pansy, Blaise, not even Crabbe or Goyle- were at the table he used to be so familiar with. Just some nasty stares, which caused his lips to purse, and his legs to force his retreat.

He left the hall, running down to the courtyard where more students were eating. _Ah, there they were,_ sitting on the bridge which headed towards the grounds. Moping about, as per usual. They used to claim that bridge as their own—tossing rocks into the ditches and aiming them at the whomping willow, hoping it would hit some idiot first year on its launch back—but… now he ate breakfast at the Gryffindor table... and he was beginning to enjoy it…

He stopped at the foot of the bridge, unsure of how he was supposed to approach. _Apologise._ Yes, but… approaching them was…

Then Pansy caught his eye.

Draco felt as if he were hexed. Guilty and unnerved, He tried to open his mouth, but they’d already gotten up to approach, hands in their pockets or arms crossed, defensive in their glares.

“Where’s your little pride of lions?” Pansy muttered. “Aren’t you like, one of Potter’s _loyal followers_ now?” She put a firm hand on her hip, “you don’t have time for Slytherins like us, right?”

He could already feel a thin layer of sweat clinging at his skin. This was harder than he’d ever expected nor wished it to be. “T-That’s… not true.” He managed to breathe out. “I-I’ve just been trying to find the _right_ t-time…”

Blaise shook his head. “You… You knew I was calling for you- at the carriages last weekend.” There was a sadness in his voice. “…Ignored me right up until Potter and all your other… friends boarded… we could have talked then… on the way back to the castle.”

He put a hand on his head, what was there to say in a moment like that? An awkward exchange on an already terrible ride _back_ to the school? “I-I didn’t know what to say then….”

“So you… just ignored it ‘cause that was easier.”

He looked down. He did… just ignore it. “Y-Yes… I… did.” He fumbled over his thoughts. “I did—I didn’t know what to do, so I ignored it. The same with this whole… bullshit year!” When had he ever been this emotional, about anything?

Crabbe and Goyle, as dense as they were, shook their heads. “Did’ja expect us… not to notice you disappearin’… leaving us alone an’ all that?” Crabbe started. “Seriously- not a word at all art the end of summer- we wondered if you were even _coming_ after all ta’ shit that happened last year.”

“I…” He sighed, it was a long one. “It’s been a shit show—and I didn’t think it would’ve gone on this long—I would have said something from the start if I knew I’d be _stuck_ like this for a whole _semester!_ ” He gestured to his uniform.

Pansy rolled her eyes, reaching out to grab his tie. “I hate that red suits you.” She started. “-we really were worried, and then- well- we _weren’t._ ” She hooked a finger into his knot, and pulled the tie undone, holding it with a disdain in her eyes, as if it were something contagious. “Because you’re _fine_ , aren’t you, Draco? You’ve got all the friends you’d ever need.” She looked over to Blaise, who shot glances between the two.

“I’m nowhere near _fine,_ Pansy- this isn’t _fine.”_ He looked to Blaise. “I-I didn’t mean to… make it this _bad_. I was just… _scared._ ”

She grit her teeth. “We’re supposed to be your friends- so why did _Harry Potter_ and his menagerie of _idiots_ find out first? Why are _they_ the ones… _helping_ you deal with any of this? If you were so _scared-_ then why did they find out?!” She shook the tie in anger. “Why didn’t you just _tell_ us!”

Draco’s lips quivered in frustration. This wasn’t exactly what he needed in a time like _this._ “T-That’s why I’m _here_ Pansy!” He took a breath. He shouldn’t get angry at a time like this. He was here to apologise. “I want to apologise- I _want_ to explain myself—I feel terrible, having ignored you guys like this!”

Blaise opened his mouth to say something before Pansy let out an incredulous laugh. “What? Oh, yeah _now_ you want to apologise?” She turned on her heel, walking towards the rail of the bridge to stare out into the forest for a long moment, before looking back over. “Word’s already on the street, _Malfoy._ ”

Draco’s lips parted. “What?”

“Rehoused from Slytherin? _Second most fitting house?_ Some old clause in a dusty book up in that office.” She let out a long, amused laugh. “Who’d’ve thought _you’d_ be a Gryffindor! I guess it makes sense though- you’re _reckless_ and _brainless_ , just like the rest of them.”

He felt his face flush. How did she know? Who would have told her? Did… did one of the… _Gryffindors_ …?

“Oh yeah, I hear you’re so _buddy-buddy_ with McGonagall too—overheard some of the prefects talking about how she _overlooks_ your little _dinner parties_ with your new friends up in your stupid tower!” She gripped at the tie. “So _good_ around them, aren’t you?” She seethed. “So fan-fucking-tastic with them!” Rearing her hand back, she tossed the tie off into the river below the bridge.

Draco watched the red and gold fabric drop down into the deep ditch, into the waterway, floating off until it wasn’t in sight.

“Pansy…” Blaise finally held a hand out, placing it on her shoulder as she trembled in frustration before looking over to the blonde who stood, silent and still in shock and pain. She wasn’t _wrong,_ but… he… he was trying. He didn’t know that it had gotten out- who even… who _knew?_ “We’re… hurt, Draco.”

Pansy shook her head. “Betrayed.”

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged looks. “You’re… a blood traitor, Malfoy.” Goyle muttered. “Hangin’ around those Weasleys and mudbloods- everyone’s sayin’ it behind yer back.”

The Slytherin girl finally shook her head. “You’ve got your new crowd, Draco. We don’t _want_ your apologies.” She turned on her heel, Crabbe and Goyle following suit.

Draco… a blood traitor. He let out a pained chuckle. “I… understand.” He sighed- although it seemed he was talking to the air. He wasn’t one to back down—but there wasn’t much else to do in this situation, was there? “I… just…” He looked away. “… I hope… when I’m rehoused back to Slytherin… we can talk about this.” He realised that the only one who was left to hear it was Blaise.

“…I… really hope so, Draco.” He pressed his lips. “I… don’t blame you for… making choices you regret. I would too if my whole life got turned upside… We just… wished you’d been honest from the start, is all.”

“I-I know, I just…”

“I don’t think hanging around that _Potter_ or his stupid Gryffindor friends helped either. Especially after all these years.” He frowned. “…but I also respect _you_ , and… if you’ve found solace in them- I’m… not going to hold _that_ against you.”

The blonde looked up at him, with just the smallest amount of hope. “Blaise-“

“…and I hope you can find succour in me too—even if Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle aren’t ready to accept it yet.” He sighed. “We both know I’m the glue of this damn group. It’s a nightmare without you.”

It took him a second, but he let out a small laugh. “You’ve always been the sensible one—if not a little _arrogant.”_

“Whatever- _Gryffindor._ If anyone knows arrogant, it’s _you._ ” He smiled. “Now go. Eat breakfast with them. I’ll try and calm Pansy down…” He looked down to his collar. “…sorry about your tie.”

Right, the tie. The one she threw off the bridge in anger.

“It’s okay… I’ve got more.” The ex-Slytherin chuckled. “I-I’m more worried about how she… or anyone found out about the… exact circumstances of my… rehousing.” A hand raised to his forearm, a little unnerved. “I… was hoping to stay under the radar.”

“ _Under the radar?”_ Blaise laughed. “ _Honey_ , you’re anything _but_ under the radar right now, _especially_ to Slytherin, and the purebloods.” He shook his head. “Everyone’s gossiping down under the lake about your apparent _sudden fascination_ with mudbloods and half-bloods. Not to mention you’re hanging around the _Weasleys_.”

Right. Wasn’t exactly his _crowd_ was it? He wouldn’t exactly call himself a _blood traitor_ though, it’s not like he… cared all too much for those idiots.

“It’s… all temporary.” He concluded. “This whole… experience in Gryffindor is just one extremely long, painful, and _harsh_ temporary ride. I’m getting pulled along, nothing more.”

Blaise nodded. “I can imagine… tell me about it some time, when we aren’t…” he looked over his shoulder to Pansy and the others, sitting at the other foot of the bridge.

“… on different sides?” Draco finished.

“When I’m not babysitting Pansy’s dramatic ass- then we can talk some more, okay? Catch up on all this nonsense.” The Slytherin corrected. “But you should know- Hannah Abbot had seen you in that bookshop, in the muggle works section.” It wasn’t accusatory- simply a warning. “You getting called a blood traitor.. then getting seen in the muggle works section? It doesn’t make you very popular to the… well… you know.”

“Oh, I was just getting some parchment-.” The blonde pressed his lips into a weak smile, he couldn’t manage anything past that, and nodded. “Anyways… I look forward to it, Blaise.” He let out a relieved sigh. “T-Thank you for… hearing me out. I… was getting worried there…”

“She’ll come around, Draco, we were hurt... But, you are trying- and that’s the first step.” He turned on his heels. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

He waved him off, but the guilt in his chest had only _somewhat_ ceased. He hated that he’d hurt them—but he supposed he was thankful the worst of it was now, in theory, over. Blaise especially—he was hopeful there was still time to reconcile. That way, when his father _did_ show up—he could go back to the Slytherins’ he’d always come to respect…

Not tie-throwing, angry, hurt victims of his… _stupid_ choices. He hoped this was at least… the right direction. Now, he just wanted breakfast, and a new tie- before the High Inquisitor ripped him fresh hell for “inappropriate uniform conduct.” He really didn’t need detention during a _rehabilitation_.

“-How much do you wanna bet Umbridge’s coat’s infested with nargles?” Ron said between bites.

Hermione shook her head. “You know they don’t exist, Ronald.”

“No-No he’s right! Where else would they go?” Harry laughed. “Can’t imagine a more suitable place, after all. I bet it’s what’s causing her _issues._ ”

Draco approached the group with a crestfallen frown, sitting down next to Harry where his bag has been resting, across from Ron and Hermione. The green-eyed Gryffindor’s view drew to him as he approached, but Draco didn’t maintain the eye contact, letting his train of focus pick a dent in the wooden table to watch.

“Hey, how did it go?” He offered a smile, moving his bag over.

He shook his head, grabbing a piece of toast. “She threw my tie off the bridge.”

Hermione let out a small, inaudible gasp. “You went to talk to them? What happened?”

“Besides Pansy Parkin-whatever chucking your Gryffindor _badge_ off the rail of the west bridge, that is.” Ron said between chews. “Looks like you’re unscathed, so that’s something.”

The Slytherin shot him a glare. “Pansy Parkin _son,_ Ronald- and I… I went to go apologise. Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle didn’t take it so well… but Blaise seemed a little more… empathetic, I guess.” He took a small bite from the crust of his toast, he didn’t really feel hungry.

“I don’t get it, you _apologised_.”

Hermione shook her head. “It takes more than an _apology_ to make everything alright, Ronald! Pansy was hurt, scared probably- it’s not like she knew what was going on.”

He shook his head. _Someone told her._ “She.. knew. About the book, the clauses, the rehousing and even our… _dinner parties_.” He frowned. “Someone who knows the… specifics of my situation told her and… I mean, that’s only you guys… the teachers- and the prefects.”

Ron took a long sip from his glass before taking a deep breath. “Wasn’t us, Malfoy.” He started, “We wouldn’t. I don’t exactly like you, but we wouldn’t.”

He knew they wouldn’t… he supposed hearing it from the one of the three of them who hated him the most still was slightly reassuring, though. “I… I know, it was probably a conversation between the Prefects that she overheard—that’s how she heard about the dinners.” He took a short sip from the glass of water at his table place. “It was more… she was hurt because I turned to _you_ lot instead of them… all because of my stupid choices.”

They all went quiet.

“Well, they’ve always followed you around, I’m… sure they’ll come to, mate.” The Weasley concluded.

Harry nodded. “Zabini was more empathetic, that’s a start! When you go back to Slytherin, I’m sure it’ll work out.” He put a strawberry on his plate. “Waiting games are hard, but it’s going to work out.”

The blonde nodded. “No use dwelling, what’s done is done—Blaise said he’ll come talk to me later once Pansy isn’t… _her_.” He chuckled. She’d always been the fiery one of their group. “He’s always been the sensible one, if not a little _cocky._ ”

Harry laughed. “You’re telling us!”

The conversation lightened as Draco joined the laughter, popping the strawberry into his mouth. He couldn’t keep dwelling on everything. He’d just keep trying- trying to contact his father, trying to navigate this whole _Gryffindor_ thing, trying to reconcile with his friends— _trying to not go crazy from Umbridge._

“Well, _anyways_ -” Ron started. “-How was Quidditch practice yesterday? Kept you out late didn't it?” He took a sip of water and stuffed a piece of toast into his mouth. That was true, Draco vividly recalled Harry getting back nearly before curfew.

“Terrible. Angelina wasn’t even running a real practice.” He bemoaned. “We basically got told off by Umbridge for god knows how long and barely got on our brooms. Arguing over if we even get to stay, since it’s a _club and-or organisation._ ” He mocked the shrill tone which announced rules over the speakers. “It’s not really quidditch now, it’s just…”

“-Another detention, sounds like.” Draco mumbled between chews of his own food. “Good thing I’m not on the team.” He let another small chuckle leave his system. “I’d hate to hear her voice more than I need to.”

“You should be glad- It really did feel like detention!” Harry rested his head on the table with an annoyed exhale. “But, I guess it can’t all be bad, at least my _actual_ detentions have been lightening up a little. Plus, _you-know-what_ ’s going to happen later today.” His hand traced the wood of the table as he spoke.

They all looked at each other for a second, a long break of silence. “Yes… Today.” Hermione smiled. “I hope you’re all excited, I am, for one- although I suppose I did have my _predispositions_.”

Her voice was cut off by the powerful draft that picked up as the morning flurry of mail owls ran their course through the great hall and filled the room with the sounds of letters opening- They watched with little interest as the owls dipped overhead- until a sleek black owl swooped down and landed just next to Draco’s plate. “ _Minuit_?” His surprise was audible at the sight of the bird.

“Fancy bird, Draco.” Ron blurted out as the owl ruffled its feathers, placing the letter onto the table. It was addressed for him. He swallowed, not knowing just what it could be- _was it..?_ For some reason, the idea of his father writing to him made his stomach drop in some off… weird way. “Well go on, what is it?” The group seemed to lean forward a little in anticipation- he’d been complaining about this letter nearly the whole year, after all.

He picked at the grey stationary and slid out a crisply folded letter, when his fingers ran across the paper, he felt a sense of relief wash over him when his pale eyes grazed over the paper. It was his mother’s handwriting. The elegant green ink which flowed across the surface was like his own handiwork, and he scanned the text with haste. ‘ _How expected.’_ He thought.

“It’s just an update from my mother.” He finally concluded to the group. “Stuff about my father’s work, and when he’d finally be able to come and fix this ‘rehousing’ mess that’s been going on for so long.” He tossed the letter to the middle of the table, shrugging. “Barely any word from him, but according to her, he should be home for holidays.” He scratched the bird’s head. Something about that… well, the drop in his core ceased, instead replaced by relief. Holidays, that was… plenty of time.

Plenty of time, _for what_? He didn’t quite know yet.

“Speaking of that-” Hermione said, head tilted just slightly. “I tried reading up on your… situation some. I went to the library-“ Ron rolled his eyes, picking up the _Daily Prophet_ to zone out with. “...There isn’t much on the special circumstances of Hogwarts discipline available to read- but I’m curious as to why your mother hasn’t done anything about this? After all, she’s also your guardian.”

He shook his head, thinking back to the clause. “It’s not really a matter of parents or guardians, actually.” He sighed. “According to the rules they had me sit through, the only people who could have any say in the matter are school officials, or in whatever godforsaken case, the ministry.” His voice seemed to pan off into monotone expression as he thought about the dusty book, and that day.

“I guess it really would be up to your father at that point then, him being a school Governor _and_ in the Ministry.” Harry sighed, still tracing the table’s surface.  
“Precisely, and it says he’s going to be back _mid december_.” He groaned. “What am I supposed to say? By that time the Slytherins probably won’t even care that I’d be back, they’d still call me a blood traitor or whatever, even if I did talk with Blaise and try to fix things.” Even if that was the case, there was still the part of him that seemed… unopposed to parts of it- which scared him, even if he failed to project it.

“I mean really, does it really matter what they think?” Ron asked without too much thought. “We’ve got friends in other houses, this shouldn’t be such a big deal.” He pointed to Lovegood, across the hall.

Draco didn’t respond, and they didn’t bring it up again in the conversation, letting it fall back into an almost satire chat about things that didn’t really matter. It was scary that they knew him like that: when to stop talking. Harry knew how to redirect an exchange, and the way they… seemed to just fit him in with them, maybe Pansy… had a point. They did seem like one unit- and he… didn’t know how to feel about that.

Today wasn’t going to be dragged down by Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s reactions, though. Today was more than that. Dumbledore’s Army would be having its first meeting. Draco couldn’t fully enumerate how… bizarrely _excited_ he was in that moment. It… was new to him, being excited about something so… _different._ He would have never even _thought_ of getting anywhere _near_ the DA in Slytherin- so it was… electrifying.

It was a dragging day, History of Magic on Ancient Romans, Divination _(which had always been boring, but the drama between Umbridge and Trelawney made it about ten times worse.)_ where he stared at a teapot for about 2 hours and nodded off, and then muggle studies.

Muggle Studies. He _used_ to hate it—but he supposed after picking up that book at Hogsmeade, _20000 Leagues_ that is, he’d had his interest piqued. Apparently- according to the dictionary that Professor Burbage had lent him- a _Mortician_ was someone who dealt with Muggle Funeral services. They’d told him he _dressed_ like that! Although, upon requesting a look at what exactly they _did_ look like… well, he was considering a new wardrobe.

Besides that, it seemed to be the only class of any amount of interest in the day- which was new for him as well. The whole wide world and he’d never been bothered to learn about it- whereas it was still, to some degree, Harry and Hermione’s realities. It baffled him just how much he was unaware of, mathematics, histories, sciences- laws and culture. He supposed, being raised by his parents, he just simply never had the opportunity nor capacity to care—and it wasn’t that he was particularly _inclined_ to muggle things, rather, simply intrigued.

Perhaps it was his newfound friends… making him think weird… but, well, that didn’t matter- if he didn’t show that interest to his parents.

When the bell finally tolled, Draco flattened his vest out in nerves as he walked down the halls. He planned to drop his bag off in the common room before making his way down, partially in hopes of not looking _too_ desperate, but also because he’d _loathe_ to be the first there. After the regrettably _exhausting_ walk up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower, he bound back down the stone flights, taking a few turns to avoid a large _pink_ menace which prowled the halls. Finally, he came to the hefty, daunting oak door which formed at his presence. It was as if the school knew he was a part of this mess, as if it were some label suddenly placed on him: _“Member of the DA.”_

The room was already decently populated by the time he’d arrived, doors forming from other sides of the wide training hall which made way for other arriving students. He found himself quickly shuffling off to the side, sitting down on one of the stools near the large mirror and message board they’d set up, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else as the 30 members waited in anticipation.

“Alright everyone, welcome to the first meeting of the DA.” Harry started, Draco could tell he was straining his voice to make sure it didn’t crack in front of the group, awkwardly standing in front of the group with little confidence- despite Draco knowing he was capable of a ridiculous level of it. “Thanks for coming in, everyone’s on time- which is fantastic.” He wrung his hands as he spoke, but his confidence built up as he continued. “Today we’re going to start simple with some of the basics. If you’ve got them down, you’ll only have to do it a few times as demonstration before going onto a more in-depth study, everyone who might not have these basics down- which is completely fine- we’ll be working hard on making sure we can build up the foundational skills.”

Draco slid off the stool as the group was directed to form lines, Harry pulling Ron to perform a few examples of the most basic spells he could list off- Expelliarmus, Rictusempra, and Stupefy. Telling everyone to pair off quickly to practice the spells while he’d go around and examine the groups, determining levels of skill and where to gauge students at.

The Slytherin hesitated at the notion of groupings, but eventually found his way to Luna Lovegood- whom he knew to remember- but had never spoken to before. She was a bit of an oddball herself, so they ended up being last-pick partners.

“Nice to meet you, Draco.” Her voice was light and fluttery, and he dipped his head in response.

“Likewise.” He murmured quietly. After exchanging their pleasantries- they bowed to begin their duel and began exchanging magical blows. Luna was alright, if not a little hesitant with her spell work. When Harry made his way over to them, he seemed to notice that too- showing her how to follow through with the spells more confidently.

He smiled when she shot off a spell which sent Draco’s wand across the room far further than he’d expected. “Good work! Keep that in mind while you’re practicing.” He said enthusiastically, patting her on the back while Draco collected his wand had been thrown. “Draco, your turn.” Harry then said, and he picked up his wand.

With a simple flourish and an inaudible utter of ‘expelliarmus’ he felt the familiar feeling of energy rush through him and extend from the tip of his wand- flying across the room with accuracy he greatly prided in. Luna’s wand flew into the air in a dramatic manner before landing on some poor saps’ head.

“Well done, Draco.” He smiled. “I think your flourished just a _little_ too much though, can’t have someone’s head getting hit every time, right?” He laughed, which caused Draco to look away with a small amount of embarrassment, and then let out a deep exhale.

“…Alright, I’ll work on that then.” He said quietly.

“-Well rather than that I thought the execution was very professional and clean!” Harry quickly added. “Non-verbal casting too, there isn’t too much room for error with you, and the flourishes are sort of a _personal_ thing anyways, so-”

“You’re doing fine, Harry.” Draco sighed. “Thank you, I’ll be sure to work on controlling my flourishing to appropriate for any situation.” The boy nodded, green eyes showing relief as he attempted to reassure him.

The afternoon continued along a similar path as Draco and the others who obviously knew what they were doing were working to perfect the spells and techniques while Harry stuck to assisting the younger students. As the class persisted, he grew more confident which made it far less awkward when he tried giving feedback to people- he was fumbling less with his words as he pointed out issues, or when adjusted form.

While watching Harry improve around the students, Draco himself had to attempt to get used to being surrounded by everyone in the hall. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws- barely a soul he knew before any of this rehousing business. They were all rather _amiable_ people- although he found himself sticking closer to Hermione since she seemed to be just as out landed by the situation- whereas Ron was hedging bets with his brothers and passing judgement on the others when he wasn’t being worked

When the meeting ended, they gathered at the alcove of the room they’d set up, where he made a few announcements and explained what they’d work on for the next meeting.

When they broke for dinner, he wasn’t expecting the soft _“See you later, it was nice meeting you.”_ He got from Luna Lovegood, which took him by surprise. He supposed even the smallest things were getting to him now, given just how _ostracised_ he’d been for the last few weeks.

The four finally headed down for dinner once every student successfully got out the door without getting a suspension and three months of detention and turned in for the night.

Something felt… different about it, though, as he tucked into the cushioned, soft bed in the tower. He couldn’t quite pin the feeling, nor if it was _good_ or _bad_ , but there was a change in the pit of his stomach. He supposed it was his run-ins with his friends whom were still upset with his… shit-poor decisions, or Blaise trying to be nice and sensible, or his newfound interest in muggle subjects- or maybe even the DA and how it made him feel to be doing such ridiculous things.

_Only until December, and then this stupid fever dream can be over._

Although, something about that reassurance wasn’t reassuring at all.

  
Seemingly only a few days later, word had spread. Harry had even dared to mention it to him; Umbridge was looking for something. A weapon which the ministry had assumed Dumbledore had. _The Army._

In any other case, he would have merely scoffed. Dumbledore was a great wizard; but he certainly wasn’t planning to overthrow a government- he would have believed that the dark lord returning was some wild fantasy created by a fanatic Potter who didn’t have anything better to do—he would have taken this rumour of a ‘Weapon’ as some ridiculous notion… but there he was. It’s not like this was Dumbledore’s idea, though. It was all Potter’s idea to throw the club together _(but he loved to remind Draco that it was, somehow, partially his idea.)_ and now _they_ were the “weapon” which Umbridge was supposedly looking for; and Her newest addendum to the ever-growing list of Inquisitorial Rules was proof of that. A group of students dubbed the “Inquisitorial Squad” who were basically “ _glorified hall monitors_ ” as Harry put it. Patrolling the corridors for strange behaviour, rule breaking—and Dumbledore’s plans to destroy the Government of the British Wizarding World. Annoying at best, was his first assumption, but then it had come to his attention that… well… his _old friends_ had joined the club, basically hunting him and his _new friends_ down.

Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle had joined Umbridge in her crusade to find the Army. Blaise had opted out of it— He wasn’t sure why- since they hadn’t gotten the chance to talk yet… but it was the only comfort he had after he found out about the rest… It wasn’t a good thought that his friends were wearing badges which ultimately meant loyalty to that _bitch._ They were looking for him, and despite his best efforts thus far; he wasn’t sure if he could befriend them again, after all was said and done. It wouldn’t stop him from trying, but he was afraid of what might happen if he tried to get close again- with them wearing their shiny new badges. Would they even hear him out? What would they say if they knew?

Days became a week; then two— one meeting became many- and Draco discovered something he didn’t think he’d ever find while rehoused in Gryffindor… he felt as if perhaps, he belonged with the army… he certainly knew he wouldn’t have belonged with the inquisition; he would have talked his friends out of it if he’d stayed in Slytherin…

He was sure to not mistake this for “belonging” being in _Gryffindor._ No. He still much rather preferred Slytherin, thank you very much. However, the army had become, to a certain degree, a home-away-from-home in his time in Gryffindor. He’d begun to make _somewhat_ friends, finding solace in Luna, Harry, Hermione, and Ron—occasionally others, as well, though many of them still weren’t particularly keen to him. He’d tried to reintroduce himself to Longbottom…. With incredibly… awkward results. _(Longbottom barely got a few words out, when Draco had approached, turning pale thinking he was about to jinx his pants off or turn his hair green. Draco then proceeded to give him the short greeting of ‘Hey… Longbottom. Nice job in Herbology this morning.’ To which Longbottom gave a shaky thumbs up and Draco walked away. Ron said he’s never seen anyone fail to the level he’d just committed, and Draco replied a nasty look before returning to Luna and Harry, who told him ‘better luck next time.’)_

He’d never quite felt both the levels of unfamiliarity, as well as camaraderie that he was feeling whilst hanging out in the Room of Requirement nearly every Afternoon. Despite lessons only occurring twice a week, with an open house on the weekend to practice, there were always a few kids hanging about in the room it seemed. It had become somewhat of a commons for the misfits of Hogwarts; alcoves being created for all manners of things. Neville had brought a few plants into the hall, creating a small place to cultivate certain herbs and potion ingredients. Hermione had _(somehow)_ managed to get a large bookshelf in _(although, Draco supposed, maybe she just convinced the Room they needed it.)_ which was filled to the brim with textbooks of varying degrees and difficulties, on all manners of subjects. Ron had brought brooms in to decorate the walls, but when his crazy brothers decided to mount them and fly high into the vaulted ceiling of the training hall, only so they could drop bombs of magical gasses and glitters on unsuspecting students, Harry had to ban flying in the room.

This was all to say, Draco was feeling a lot more comfortable with himself in this state than he had been in the beginning. Harry and his friends made it a lot easier to manage the fact that his whole social life had fallen apart- despite their differences- and they were noticing it. Eli loved to tease him about it, about his new friendships or pastimes- and McGonagall- although she was rather busy through and through, had noted that his “rehabilitation was pleasing to see.” Was he really being “rehabilitated” though? What would he even call this..?

These things had been ever-growing factors in his increasingly complicated life… new friends and allies, now activities and groups… new ideas… he wasn’t even sure if he could call himself the same person he was when this all began, because he was sure that the _Old_ him wouldn’t have been keen to continuing a slowly growing collection of _muggle_ information. Between his new books he’d been collecting, or the fact that his lunches usually consisted of listening to Hermione talk about what Dentists and Calculus were- he really was starting to believe that _maybe_ Pansy and Crabbe and Goyle were right- and that he was…

He didn’t want to think about it..

“Quit starin’ off into space, Malfoy.” Ron waved a roll of bread in front of his face, snapping him out of his thought. “You get that weird scowl n’ it freaks me out.”

He gave Ron glare before sighing out. “Sorry- what were you saying?” He looked over to Harry, who had been talking about… something. “I-I was just- thinking…”

Harry took a long sip from his glass and sighed. “I was saying, I’m afraid to start working with the DA on Patronus’… after what happened _last time.”_ He frowned. “The amount of times Neville fell on his ass was… embarrassing.”

“You call it embarrassing, I call it free entertainment.” Ron snarked, stuffing a portion of the roll into his mouth. “If he can’t look about a meter in front of him, that’s not our fault.”

Hermione gave Ron a harsh shove, accompanied by a scowl. “It’s not funny, Ron! He’s trying his best.” She set her book down- over advanced potions- and looked to Harry and Draco for guarantee.

Harry nodded, “I don’t want him getting sent to the hospital wing, what are we meant to say?” He crossed his arms. “It might bring suspicion to Umbridge- plus Neville’s always been a terrible liar.”

“Pity the poor boy, Ronald.” Draco said, taking a sip from his goblet. “If he wasn’t there, you’d probably be at the bottom.” He lamented dramatically, which got a sarcastic laugh out of him.

“Yeah well at least I’m not prancing around flourishing my wand like _Lockheart.”_ He spat back. The mere mention of that man’s name made them all crack a smile. “Look at me, I’m Draco~ I’m sooooo good let me just do a little dance with my protego!” He waved his arms in the air.

He felt his face grow warm from embarrassment, crossing his arms. “Well it hasn’t failed me yet! I’ve had top marks in Slytherin for the past 4 years!”

“Get used to second place then.” He retorted. “’Cause there’s no way you’d beat Hermione at the exams.”

Draco grimaced, but he was partially right. Unless she had a bad day- and he was having an extraordinarily good day- their exams at the would merely garner silver results for him. “We’ll see about that.” He said proudly, not quite believing the confidence he portrayed.

Hermione was laughing all the while, getting a kick out of the conversation, and Harry was silently appreciating the fact that they were at least somewhat getting along- however before Ron could retort again about Draco’s stupid pride- the large ceiling gaped open, and owls began to swoop down, pulling their attention away from their silly conversation.

Hermione received a letter from her parents, Ron a letter from his brother, and Harry… had a strange unmarked letter which when Draco asked about, he got a large “it’s nothing… don’t worry about it.” He wished he could say it didn’t hurt his feelings, but it did.

Draco wasn’t expecting the large black owl to swoop down from the skies; landing gracefully to perch at his side. Dignified in its eyes, Draco swallowed. He had received a letter from his family. He wondered what it could be, the usual update? His father no where to be found? More waiting? He supposed at this point… he didn’t mind it all too much.

The letter was opened, Minuit pecking on the crumbs of bread as he scanned the writing… and he realised… This was the one.

**Draco,**

**Upon hearing of the blatant discrimination, favouritism, and embarrassment the school has shown in regards to your current position, I can no longer allow this to stand. I am appalled by the lack of professionalism this school has shown in their executive choice and administrative power. I will arrive via carriage the week after next to sort this mess out. Had I returned sooner from my business trip, I surely would have dealt with this situation on day one. Have your things ready to be transferred back to Slytherin, I will not stand for this any longer.**

**Lucius Malfoy**

Draco wasn’t sure if he’d read that right… was he dreaming maybe? Surely this was some nightmare, perhaps… maybe he was just hallucinating this bird and the letter— maybe it was a trick! A Jinx! Some silly howler that was about to explode into a flurry of paper with taunting chants like _‘blood traitor Draco!’_ or something of the sort! This wasn’t real-

And then Minuit waddled over to Harry’s owl, Hedwig, and started gently nipping at her feathers, to which Harry exclaimed and looked over to Draco ready to dote over their owls being friendly, before he caught his expression. “Another update from your mom about your dad being away?” He asked carefully. “Or… is it worse news..? You don’t look too happy…” he looked down at the paper in Draco’s hand, and Draco seemed to drop it, as if it were burning his skin. “Are you going to be stuck here even longer? What’s wrong?”

“Go on and read it…” he murmured, quietly, still not believing it was real— was he not happy with this message? Shouldn’t he be over the moon that it was all about to finally be done with? He was apparently upset given the questions Harry was asking him…

Harry bit his lip and slowly slid the note over to himself, reading it with wide eyes. “Oh wow-“ he said softly. “This is good, isn’t it? Your dad is finally back-“ Ron and Hermione stopped what they were doing, attention drawing to the blonde. “You get to go back soon-“

“Draco doesn’t look too… excited about the notion.” Hermione said quietly. “Shock, probably, since it’s been so long…” she reached out to place a hand off his shoulder. “Draco? It’s okay… talk to us?”

He looked down at the letter, then to their looks of concern _(although Ronalds was more akin to confusion or disappointment..)_ and then he forced a smile. “Took him long enough- I was half expecting this to blow up into some prank or a howler!” He chuckled quietly, feeling an odd, sick feeling in his stomach. “But I guess my father really did finally come back.. that’s good…” he smiled again, weaker.

“You don’t look too happy…” Harry said again. “Are you going to miss us?”

“He’s going to miss the bed- that’s for sure!” Ronald said between chews of his breakfast which he resumed after his letters were discarded. “He’ll miss you too Harry, don’t worry about that! I bet he’s thankful he doesn’t have to room with me anymore!” He laughed.

“No… I’ll miss you too, Ron.” He said quietly. “I’ll miss the beds, and the dumb late night talks— no one in Slytherin likes to toss pillows around… so I guess I’ve got to say goodbye to that game too.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “I’ll have to say goodbye to Fawley, and McGonagall…”

“You aren’t dying, Draco!” Harry laughed. “You’ll still be around to go to meetings, we can all hang out at the Three Broomsticks! We’ll have defense together! And Potions!” He beamed brightly at him, and he mustered up a small smile. “We’ll still be your friends if you want us to be, after all this is over.”

“Yeah yeah… you’re right-“ he sighed. “I guess it’s the end of the fever dream…” he looked down at the letter. What he would have given to have gotten this letter from the start… but without it- he’d learned so much… experienced a lot of crazy things- met new people, like Fawley, Lovegood, Longbottom… the Weasleys… Hermione, Ron… Harry… he was thankful, to some degree, that the letter had come this late. “I’ve got to tell Blaise-“ he then blurted out.

“Go! We’ll make sure the birds don’t eat all your crumbs-“ Ron smirked.

Hermione nodded. “Better Now to be honest and forthcoming with him than never, since you two aren’t on bad terms-“ she smiled. “Go.”

Draco nodded and grabbed the letter, skidding up from his seat to bound down the hall— Blaise… _Blaise where on earth would you be?!_ His head whipped over to the Slytherin table, and Low and Behold, he was sitting with a few friends. He assumed the others were on duty for the High Inquisitor- or throwing rocks and ties off the bridge.. but that could wait for when he was back in Slytherin!

He approached the table, garnering nasty stares as he did, and smiled to Blaise. “Got a second?” He asked hopefully, ignoring the judgemental murmurs from the kids between them.

He returned the smile, getting up. “Always for you, Idiot.” He said softly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “-see you guys in divination-“ he then added to his friends.

“Come on… I’ve got something to tell you.” Draco began heading for the doors. “Privately, though… their stares make me loose focus.” He gave Blaise a smirk, leading him down a quiet hallway.

“What’s up, D?” He asked when the finally stopped, hands finding themselves in the pockets of his trousers and he leaned against the wall. “News?”

He nodded, presenting the crisp letter to him. “Just arrived… thought you should be one of the first to know.” He said hopefully. “The week before holidays, he’s going to come sort this out… it’s finally gonna be over.”

Blaise read the letter, smile getting wider the further into the message he got, looking up to him with an earnest look on his face. “Thank you… for being so up front this time-“ he pulled a hand out of his pockets to wrap it around Draco in a small, affectionate hug. Stunned for a moment, the blonde stared at him.

“We’re doing _hugs_ now?” He asked incredulously. “You’ve never hugged me for anything! In all our years!”

“Well you go in for that sort of thing now, right?” He laughed, staring down at the letter again. “Plus… this really does mean a lot to me- it shows you’re trying.” He tucked the letter back into Draco’s hand. “So what’s the plan?”

 _Plan…_ “good question.” He sighed. “Haven’t thought that far ahead, honestly.” He then added, scratching the back of his neck. “I can barely process what’s happened the past few months in Gryffindor, much less what I just read… you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He laughed sheepishly.

“Well… he looked up at the large clock. “I don’t have class till noon.” He says down. “Go on, tell me the story of the great and wise Gryffindor Draco Malfoy!” He laughed. “Maybe I can help you come up with a game plan.”

The blonde hesitated for a moment… he didn’t expect to spend the whole morning with him— although he didn’t have class until around noon either… Harry and then would definitely understand.. they’d probably jinx him if he didn’t take the opportunity. “Yeah..” he sat down. “But a lot of it is kinda… out there— you gotta swear you aren’t gonna tell anyone— n-not even Pansy, yet..” he gave him a serious look.

“Why? Did you get a girlfriend and not tell her? She’ll kill you for that as soon as she’s done being pissed at you-“ he giggled.

“No!” Draco quickly retorted. “No… let me start from the beginning-“ he set his bag down at their feet: “at first I thought it was only going to last a week, at most.” He started sheepishly.

“-Which is why you initially didn’t say anything. You were hoping you could get out of it?”

The Gryffindor nodded, a guilty look painted across his face. “I’d redo it all if I could— but I was so scared of being seen or found out I just… panicked. For the first month or so I was on my own… the only time I really talked to anyone was when I had to check in with my prefect about my rehabilitation process.” He explained.

“Yeah, the clause.” Blaise added thoughtfully. “Pansy heard about that, it was the talk of the common room when we all found out.”

Draco frowned. “Yeah… they called me in early to rehouse me due to some weird old ruling…” his eyes focused on the window across from where they sat in the empty hallway. “It all happened so fast I didn’t know what to do with myself… unfairly treated like some delinquent kid who deserved capital punishment in such an embarrassing form…”

“Why’d they do it?” He followed his gaze outside. “Rehousing you… must have Been a long conversation for them.”

Draco shook his head. “No clue. But it happened and then Harry found out…” he said quietly. “And that bitch Umbridge made it impossible to keep hiding.”

Blaise let out a stifled laugh. “Wow you really are a Gryffindor-“ he chortled. “All of you hate her so much- I don’t get it!”

“-Dude she’s literally suffocating this place and everyone inside of it!” He exclaimed. “Why wouldn’t I hate her?! She’s totally ruining the whole school-“

“Shes taken away all of our freedoms, and whereas the rest of us might just look away and nod— the _mighty lion_ gets all angry!” He giggled. “No one in Slytherin is even bothering with her.” he sighed.

“So you don’t dislike her?” He gave him an odd look.

“Oh no—“ he shook his head quickly. “She’s a paranoid bitch with massive god complex and she’s trying to wrap this school around the ministry’s finger ‘cause of some ridiculous rumours.” He said honestly. “I’m just less vocal than you _Gryffindors.”_ He teased.

“I’m still a Slytherin, asshole!” He spat back playfully. “I would have hated her even if I hadn’t been rehoused, so what if I’m a little more vocal!”

“Yeah yeah, anyways… Harry Potter found out and then what? You all started having dinner parties up in the common room?” He asked, amused. He crossed his legs, chin resting in his hand.

“Well he wouldn’t let me skip dinners anymore— I think he doesn’t like it when _anyone_ skips out on a meal- it’s weird…” he shrugged. “But he.. and the rest of them- they all banded together to try and help me ‘ _fit in’_ because that’s _definitely_ what I wanted out of this.” He sighed. “Started sitting with me in classes, hanging out with me during study hall— they’re all very clingy-“

“ _You’re_ very clingy too you know.” Blaise interrupted with a smirk. “So it’s a win-win for you, no?”

“No!” He retorted. “Every day I was thinking about how guilty I felt ‘cause I left you guys I’m the dark— the look on Pansy’s face the first time she saw me after this all went down— the look on _your_ face at Hogsmeade…” he looked away. “I’ll be the first to admit that my time in Gryffindor wasn’t the worst… but it wasn’t right either.” He looked up to him. Blaise simply nodded- and for a moment it was silent… as if they were both at a loss for words.

What else would Draco even tell him about? The DA? His fascination with Muggles and the fact that he was definitely _not acting the way a Malfoy should_. He’d totally kill him for it! They were already calling him a blood traitor….

“Can I ask you something, Draco?” Blaise was giving him an earnest look— the amusement washing away and replaced by a more serious look. It was a careful question. “Because… I want you to be honest with me, even if you don’t like the answer.” He then added.

“While you’ve got me in an empty hallway? Shoot.” Draco said sarcastically. “I’ll… try my best to be honest.”

Blaise pursed his lips. “After you come back to Slytherin, you’re still going to hang out with them, aren’t you?” He asked cautiously.

Draco didn’t say anything… but he nodded. _‘You aren’t dying, Draco! You’ll still be around to go to meetings, we can all hang out at the Three Broomsticks! We’ll have defense together! And Potions!’_ No matter how many times Draco had told himself it would all be over once he got back to Slytherin, he knew that would be the case. The books on his nightstand about fantastical muggle fiction were proof enough- his membership to the DA was just icing on top.

“Pansys gonna give you hell for that… and so is half the house…” he said quietly. “She’s still pissed… I don’t know if she’s ever gonna fully recover- you know how she is…”

“She’s still angry at Patil from first year when she borrowed her hair tie and never gave it back.” Draco said, unamused. “I was hoping you could mediate.”

“-and I will! I just… had a thought though.” He sighed. “Cause.. you’ve been put in a tricky situation.” He laced his hands together. “Call me crazy, you can, but… what if I… tried to get to know them?”

Draco gave him an odd look. “Come again?@

“Well…” the slytherin looked away again. “If I’m being completely honest… Pansy wasn’t very happy with me after you tried to come talk… she’s dedicated a lot of her time to that inquisitorial club to cool off steam from what’s going on… but we both know I’m not going to join that mess… I thought maybe while she’s cooking off in her own way- I could try and get to know this _‘new you.’”_ He smiled weakly. “For you- though.”

Dracos unamusement turned to a wide smirk. “What? Is it cool now to hang out with the weird Gryffindor kids?” He crossed his arms. “Just a moment ago you were making fun of us!”

“I’m not saying I’m gonna hang around you lot all the time! I just thought maybe if we.. you know… found some common ground, you coming back to Slytherin could be easier?” He shrugged. “It’s for you, though- I don’t care for those weirdos at _all!”_

“Yeah well they can be pretty convincing…” he chuckled. “Trust me I told them I didn’t want anything to do with them and ended up in their inner circle-“

Blaise laughed. “Then how about it? We’ve got two weeks to make this work. See what they say for me?” He took his hand. “And I’ll do what I can on my end to help Pansy cool off so… it’s easier for all of us. She’ll come around… I think she’s just not ready to open herself up to it yet…”

“Well… be careful with that-“ the blonde warned. “I don’t want her to think you’re ditching her too- in a way…”

He rolled his eyes. “She’s gonna get pissed at me for trying to help you anyways. She’ll get over it.”

Draco swallowed. “So two weeks… you’re gonna… try and get to know the _new me_ for two weeks, then when I move back to Slytherin, we’ll try to patch with Pansy?” He asked. “Are you sure? You’re putting in a lot of effort-“

“It’s partially out of curiosity to figure out what could be _so great_ on that side that you’d be looking like this, idiot-“ he ruffled his hair. “Do you own a brush anymore? Did one of those rabid first years chew it up?” He pretended to look horrified by the notion.

“Yes- you wouldn’t believe it! They’re all monsters- ate all of my hair gel and threw my comb out the window!” He said dramatically. “If you get any closer— they might get to you too!!”

Blaise let out a gasp. “No— I couldn’t!” He grabbed onto him. “Without this hair- I’m nothing!”

“Nothing but an idiot!” Draco teased. “At Least the wild gryffindors aren’t chucking my clothes off a bridge right before defense with _Professor tuck-your-shirt-in!”_ He pointed to his tie. “Brand new one, too.”

Blaise held back a smile, shaking his head. “Too soon idiot—“ he chuckled. “-anyways… sounds like a plan.” He swallowed. “Should we start now, or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow- I need to deal with the Weasley fit I’m about to receive when I tell him you want to hang out.” He rolled his eyes. “He was just warming up to me too.”

“Well hell have some more warming up to do then.” Blaise crossed his arms. “I’ll be perfectly agreeable…” he swallowed. “Another thing, though- and it’s really… well, I need to know.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you… believe in Harry Potter?”

He felt his heart drop a little. Such a suddenly serious question… weren’t they just joking?

“In what way?”

“Well… do you… believe what he’s saying?” He started with. “About Cedric… and the Dark Lord… about uh… that.” He gestured into the air. “Or… are you getting along with him without involving the politics that surround him?”

Draco looked away. “Blaise…”

“And… are you… well, last time we talked- I mentioned you got seen in the muggle works section… and you faltered for a moment. You’re friends with Granger now, too… are you a blood traitor?”

He sighed. “There’s no black and white answer to any of this.” He said, thinking back on everything that had happened. “It’s up to you to decide for yourself how you feel about them, and about that whole… situation. Not me.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“No, I’m redirecting it. Who cares what I think? Shouldn’t you make a choice to believe me or not after meeting them?” He said. “Personally? Maybe I do believe in Harry Potter— maybe just a little… but my experiences with him… have changed a lot over the past few months.” He explained.

He got up, and Blaise followed. “So… you really have changed then, huh.” He frowned, but not out of judgement.

“Wouldn’t you?” He gave him a smile. “I’m still me, but of course I’m not.. the same as I was a couple months ago. Neither are you, neither is Pansy, or Goyle or Crabbe.” He straightened out his tie. “If you’re going to do this, come in with an open mind. It took me a while to open myself up to them but it made this whole thing a lot more bearable, and I think it could do you some good too.”

Blaise, for once, seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Are you going to join us for breakfast tomorrow?” He asked. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but we’ll have to come up with a different plan if that’s the case.”

He nodded for a moment, putting his hands back into his trousers. “You really are a Gryffindor, huh?” He said, a bit bittersweet. “I’ll see you for breakfast tomorrow, just don’t let them get my hair to the state yours is in.” He chuckled.

Before Draco could nod and reply, Blaise turned on his heel… dracos answer must have not been what he was looking for— what did he want him to say? That after everything they went through, he was just supposed to suddenly go back to the way he used to be? If it were that easy, Pansy wouldn’t be mad at him anymore. But he supposed Blaise was really going out on a limb with the offer he had put out… all for him.

He returned to the breakfast, sitting down with his Gryffindor friends- the look on Blaise’s face and the sound of his voice still ringing in his head… _you really are a Gryffindor._ What did that mean? Was his answer… Gryffindor-ish?

“Well? How’d it go Draco?” Harry smiled.

He gave them a weak smile. “Seems we’ll be having Blaise over for breakfast tomorrow.”

Ron groaned, clearly in satire, “another one?!” He cried out. “When will it end?!”

When will it end…? Was this ever going to end for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY... LOOK... I KNOW EVERYONE WANTED THE SLYTHERINS TO BE HAPPY AND FOR THEM TO MAKE UP... BUT THERES GOTTA BE A LITTLE ✨spice✨ IN THERE FOR THE HOMIES...  
> I have always head canoned Pansy to be a bit vindictive in nature, whereas while Blaise is a snark and a judgemental piece of work, he manages to pull through for the homies.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER FEELS REALLY LONG... IDK MAYBE CAUSE I TOOK A LIKE YEAR LONG BREAK IN THE MIDDLE OF IT... GIRLIES I- 🙄✋ IM SORRY OKAY  
> AND I KNOW THE PACING IS SLIGHTLY WEIRD, ITS A FILLER CHAPTER TO START SETTINF UP THE FOUNDATIONS FOR MY PLANS FOR BLAISE AND FOR THE NEXT CHAPTERS MAIN POINT...
> 
> The poor boy doesn’t wanna go back and he’s gonna get plenty of wake up calls next chapter, trust me I would know I’ve written this story like 3 times now 😏 but I am excited because the dynamic I want to include with Blaise is something I never considered in the original!
> 
> And DONT WORRY... PANSY IS OK... IM GONNA PUT IT OUT THERE BC I KNOW SOMEONES GONNA BE UPSET THAT IM “VILANISING” SLYTHERIN (but JK did it first so who am I to be covering my own ass) BUT I SWEAR SHES GOT PLANS...
> 
> Also I’ve been trying to write more banter and teen-esque dialogue. I see so many docs having them talk like 18th century dandies and I’m sick of it. They are teens in the 90s. Let them speak 🙄 I hope you guys like the banter and such, I have fun imagining Draco all dramatically swooning and talking shit- it’s how it is sometimes
> 
> OK THIS AUTHORS NOTE IS REALLY LONG AND ALL OVER THE PLACE... IM JUST REALLY EXCITED CAUSE I HAVENT UODATED IN SO LONG!!!??? BUT NOW I AM AND I FEEL ACCOMPLISHED !!!
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT YOUR THOUGHTS AND WHAT YOURE LOOKING FORWARD TO IN THE NEXT CHAPTER, AS WELL AS WHAT YOU WANNA SEE!! The whole reason Blaise is getting an arc in the first place is because so many people wanted more Slytherin interaction— so please keep the ideas coming, I want to see what everyone thinks!!
> 
> Ideas/critiques (kindly)/ and suggestions are always allowed, so I’m beggin y’all please help me
> 
> Anyways kisses from the author mwah mwah you can tell I’m screaming cause I’m so happy to be working on this again— HOPE YALL ENJOYED!!!


End file.
